Ov y. 


GIFT   OF 
Irene  Hudson 


V 


LORNA     DOONE 


A  Romance  of  Exmoor 


By  R.  D.  BLACKMORE 

n 


New  York  : 

WM.  L    ALLISON  COMPANY, 

Publishers. 


/.        .    .!■ 


r 


H(3Z 


PREFACE. 


This  work  is  called  a  "  romance,"  because  the  incidents, 
characters,  time  and  scenery,  are  alike  romantic.  And  in 
shaping  this  old  tale,  the  writer  neither  dares,  nor  desires, 
to  claim  -for  it  the  dignity  or  cumber  it  with  the  difficulty 
of  an  historic  novel. 

And  yet  he  thinks  that  the  outlines  are  £lled  in  more 
carefully,  and  the  situations  (however  simple)  more  warmly 
colored  and  quickened,  than  a  reader  would  expect  to  find 
in  what  is  called  a  "legend." 

And  he  knows  that  any  son  of  Exmoor,  chancing  on  this 
volume,  cannot  fail  to  bring  to  mind  the  nurse-tales  of  his 
childhood — the  savage  deeds  of  the  outlaw  Doones  in  the 
depth  of  Bagworthy  Forest,  the  beauty  of  the  hapless 
maid  brought  up  in  the  midst  of  them,  the  plain  John 
Ridd's  Herculean  power,  and  (memory's  too  congenial  food) 
the  exploits  of  Tom  Faggus. 


M  7608 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.                                       PASB. 
Elements  of  Education 1 

CHAPTER  II. 
An  Important  Item 5 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  War-Path  of  the  Doones U 

CHAPTER  IV. 
A  Very  Rash  Visit 26 

CHAPTER  V. 
An  Illegal  Settlement 84 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Necessary  Practice 40 

CHAPTER   VII. 
Hard  it  is  to  Climb 47 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
A  Boy  and  a  Girl 58 

CHAPTER  IX. 
There  is  no  Place  Like  Home 66 

CHAPTER  X. 
A  Braye  Rescue  and  a  Rough  Ride 73 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Tom  Deserves  His  Supper 81 

CHAPTER  XII. 
A  Man  Justly  Popular 89 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Master  Huckaback  Comes  In 99 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  Motion  which  Ends  in  a  Mull 109 


vi  CONTENTS, 

CHAPTER  XV.  p^os. 

Master  Huckaback  Fails  of  Warrant , ,..,  114 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
Lorna  Growing  Formidable 124 

CHAPTER  XVn. 
John  is  Clearly  Bewitched ^,..  130 

CHAPTER  XVni. 
Witchery  Leads  to  Witchcraft 138 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Another  Dangerous  Interview ,  143 

CHAPTER   XX. 
Lorna  Begins  Her  Story 150 

CHAPTER  XXL 
Lorna  Ends  Her  Story 157 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
A  Long  Spring  Month 166 

CHAPTER  XXIIL 
A  Royal  Invitation 173 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
A  Safe  Pass  for  King's  Messenger 183 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
A  Great  Man  Attends  to  Business 193 

CHAPTER  XXVL 
John  is  Drained  and  Cast  Aside 201 

CHAPTER  XXVIL 
Home  Again  at  Last 209 

CHAPTER  XXVHL 
John  Has  Hope  of  Lorna 214 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
Reaping  Leads  to  Reveling 225 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
Annie  Gets  the  Best  of  It 283 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
John  Fry's  Errand 243 


CONTENTS.  Vii 

CHAPTER  XXXII.                                    Page. 
Feeding  of  the  Pigs 255 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
An  Early  Morning  Call 266 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
Two  Negatives  Make  an  AflSrmative 270 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 
Ruth  is  Not  Like  Loma 276 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
John  Returns  to  Business 283 

CHAPTER  XXXVIL 
A  Very  Desperate  Venture 290 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 
A  Good  Stroke  for  Jeremy 303 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 
A  Troubled  State  and  a  Foolish  Joke 314 

CHAPTER  XL. 
Two  Fools  Together 327 

CHAPTER  XLL 
Cold  Comfort 837 

CHAPTER  XLII. 
The  Great  Winter 845 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 
Not  too  Soon 355 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 
Brought  Home  at  Last -, 365 

CHAPTER  XLV. 
A  Change  Long  Needed 374 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 
Squire  Faggus  Makes  Some  Lucky  Hits 883 

CHAPTER  XLVIL 
Jeremy  in  Danger 894 

CHAPTER  XLVIII. 
Every  Man  Must  Defeua  flimsell 405 


yiii  CONTENTS, 

CHAPTER  XLIX.                                  PAen. 
Maiden  Sentinels  are  Best 416 

CHAPTER  L. 
A  Merry  Meeting  a  Sad  One 425 

CHAPTER  LI. 
A  Visit  from  the  Counselor 439 

CHAPTER  LH. 
The  Way  to  Make  the  Cream  Rise 449 

CHAPTER  Lin. 
Jeremy  Finds  Out  Something 458 

CHAPTER  LIV. 
Mutual  Discomfiture 469 

CHAPTER  LV. 
Getting  Into  Chancery 482 

CHAPTER  LVI. 
John  Becomes  too  Popular 491 

CHAPTER  LVIL 
Lorna  Knows  Her  Nurse 504 

CHAPTER  LVIII. 
Master  Huckaback's  Secret 519 

CHAPTER  LIX. 
Lorna  Gone  Away 530 

CHAPTER  LX. 
Annie  Luckier  than  John 543 

CHAPTER  LXI. 
Therefore  He  Seeks  Comfort 551 

CHAPTER  LXII. 
The  King  Must  not  be  Prayed  for 559 

CHAPTER  LXIII. 
John  is  Worsted  by  the  Women 670 

CHAPTER  LXIV. 
Slaughter  in  the  Marshes 679 

CHAPTER  LXV. 
Falling  Among  Lambs ,,,,»,, 588 


CONTENTS,  ix 

CHAPTER  LXVI.                                     Page. 
Suitable  Devotion 597 

CHAPTER  LXVII. 
Lorna  Still  is  Lorna 608 

CHAPTER  LXVm. 
John  is  John  no  Longer 617 

CHAPTER  LXIX. 
Not  to  be  Put  Up  with 629 

CHAPTER  LXX. 
Compelled  to  Volunteer 638 

CHAPTER  LXXI. 
A  Long  Account  Settled 648 

CHAPTER  LXXIL 
The  Counselor  and  the  Carver 695 

CHAPTER  LXXIIL 
How  to  Get  Out  of  Chancery 664 

CHAPTER  LXXIV. 
Driven  Beyond  Endurance 670 

CHAPTER  LXXV. 
Life  and  Lorna  Come  Again 678 


LORNA    DOONE 

A  ROMANCE  OF  EXMOOR 


CHAPTER  I. 

ELEMENTS   OF   EDUCATION. 

If  anybody  cares  to  read  a  simple  tale  told  simply,  I, 
John  Ridd,  of  the  parish  of  Oare,  in  the  County  of  Somer- 
set, yeoman  and  church-warden,  have  seen  and  had  a  sliare 
in  some  doings  of  this  neighborhood,  which  I  will  try  to 
set  down  in  order,  God  sparing  my  life  and  memory.  And 
they  who  light  upon  this  book  should  bear  in  mind  not 
only  that  I  write  for  the  clearing  of  our  parish  from  ill- 
fame  and  calumny,  but  also  a  thing  which  will,  I  trow, 
appear  too  often  in  it,  to-wit — that  I  am  nothing  more 
than  a  plain  unlettered  man,  not  read  in  foreign  languages, 
as  a  gentleman  might  be,  nor  gifted  with  long  words  (even 
in  mine  own  tongue),  save  what  I  may  have  won  from  the 
Bible  or  Master  William  Shakespeare,  whom,  in  the  face 
of  common  opinion,  I  do  value  highly.  In  short,  I  am  an 
ignoramus,  but  pretty  well  for  a  yeoman. 

My  father  being  of  good  substance,  at  least  as  we  reckon 
in  Exmoor,  and  seized  in  his  own  right,  from  many  gener- 
ations, of  one,  and  that  the  best  and  largest,  of  the  three 
farms  into  which  our  parish  is  divided  (or  rather  the  cul- 
tured part  thereof),  he,  John  Ridd,  the  elder,  church- 
warden and  overseer,  being  a  great  admirer  of  learning, 
and  well  able  to  write  his  name,  sent  me,  his  only  son,  to 
be  schooled  at  Tiverton,  in  the  County  of  Devon.  For  the 
chief  boast  of  that  ancient  town  (next  to  its  woolen  staple) 
is  a  worthy  grammar-school,  the  largest  in  the  west  of 


2  LORNA  DOGNB. 

England,  founded  and  handsomely  endowed  in  the  year 
1604  by  Master  Peter  Blimdell,  of  that  same  place, 
clothier. 

Here,  by  the  time  1  was  twelve  years  old,  I  had  risen 
into  the  iipper  sohool,  and  could  make  bold  with  Eu tro- 
pins anci  Csosar — by  a^d  of  an  English  version — and  as  much 
as  six  lines  of  Ovid.  Some  even  said  that  I  might,  before 
manhood,  rise  almost  to  the  third  form,  being  of  a  persever- 
ing nature;  albeit,  by  full  consent  of  all  (except  my 
mother),  thick-headed.  But  that  would  have  been,  as  I 
now  perceive,  an  ambition  beyond  a  farmer's  son;  for  there 
is  but  one  form  above  it,  and  that  made  of  masterful 
scholars,  entitled  rightly  ''^ monitors.''  So  it  came  to  pass, 
by  the  grace  of  God,  that  I  was  called  away  from  learning 
while  sitting  at  the  desk  of  the  junior  first  in  the  upper 
school,  and  beginning  the  Greek  verb  rvnteo. 

My  eldest  grandson  makes  bold  to  say  that  I  never  could 
have  learned  qtiXioo,  ten  pages  further  on,  being  all  he  him- 
self could  manage,  with  plenty  of  stripes  to  help  him.  I 
know  that  he  hath  more  head  than  I — though  never  will 
he  have  such  body;  and  am  thankful  to  have  stopped 
betimes,  with  a  meek  and  wholesome  head-piece. 

But  if  you  doubt  of  my  having  been  there,  because  now 
I  know  so  little,  go  and  see  my  name,  '*John  Ridd,'' 
graven  on  that  very  form.  Forsooth,  from  the  time  I  was 
strong  enough  to  open  a  knife  and  to  spell  my  name,  I 
began  to  grave  it  in  the  oak,  first  of  the  block  whereon  I 
sat,  and  then  of  the  desk  in  front  of  it,  according  as  I  was 
promoted  from  one  to  other  of  them:  and  there  my  grand- 
son reads  it  now,  at  this  present  time  of  writing,  and  hath 
fought  a  boy  for  scoffing  at  it — "John  Ridd  his  name" — 
and  done  again  in  "winkeys,"  a  mischievous  but  cheerful 
device,  in  which  we  took  great  pleasure. 

This  is  the  manner  of  a  "  winkey,"  which  I  here  set 
down,  lest  child  of  mine,  or  grandchild,  dare  to  make  one 
on  my  premises;  if  he  does  I  shall  know  the  mark  at  once, 
and  score  it  well  upon  him.  The  scholar  obtains,  bv 
prayer  or  price,  a  handful  of  saltpetre,  and  then  witfi 
the  knife,  wherewith  he  should  rather  be  trying  to  mend 
his  pens,  what  does  he  do  but  scoop  a  hole  where  the  desk 
is  some  three  inches  thick.  This  hole  should  be  left 
with  the  middle  exalted,  and  the   circumfer  dug  more 


ELEMENTS  OF  ED  UGA  TION.  3 

deeply.  Then  let  him  fill  it  with  saltpetre,  all  save  a  little 
space  iu  the  midst,  where  the  boss  of  the  wood  i#.  Upon 
that  boss  (and  it  will  be  the  better  if  a  splinter  of  timber 
rise  upward)  he  sticks  the  end  of  his  candle  of  tallow  or 
"rat's  tail,"  as  we  called  it,  kindled  and  burning  smoothly. 
Anon,  as  he  reads  by  that  light  his  lesson,  lifting  his  eyes 
now  and  then,  it  may  be,  the  fire  of  candle  lays  hold  of  the 
petre  with  a  spluttering  noise  and  a  leaping.  Then  should 
the  pupil  seize  his  pen,  and,  regardless  of  the  nib,  stir 
bravely,  and  he  will  see  a  glow  as  of  burning  mountains, 
and  a  rich  smoke,  and  sparks  going  merrily;  nor  will  it 
cease,  if  he  stir  wisely,  and  there  be  good  store  of  petre, 
until  the  wood  is  devoured  through,  like  the  sinking  of  a 
well-shaft.  Now  well  may  it  go  with  the  head  of  a  boy  in- 
tent upon  his  primer,  who  betides  to  sit  thereunder!  But, 
above  all  things,  have  good  care  to  exercise  this  art  before 
the  master  strides  up  to  his  desk,  in  the  early  gray  of  the 
morning. 

Other  customs,  no  less  worthy,  abide  in  the  school  of 
Blundell,  such  as  the  singeing  of  night-caps;  but  though 
they  have  a  pleasant  savor,  and  refreshing  to  think  of,  I 
may  not  stop  to  note  them,  unless  it  be  that  goodly  one  at 
the  incoming  of  a  flood.  The  school-house  stands  beside 
a  stream,  not  very  large,  called  *'  Lowman,''  which  flows 
into  the  broad  river  of  Exe,  about  a  mile  below.  This 
Lowman  stream,  although  it  be  not  fond  of  brawl  and  vio- 
lence (in  the  manner  of  our  Lynn),  yet  is  wont  to  flood 
into  a  mighty  head  of  waters  when  the  storms  of  rain  pro- 
voke it;  and  most  of  all  when  its  little  co-mate,  called  the 
*'  Taunton  brook  " — where  I  have  plucked  the  very  best 
cresses  that  ever  man  put  salt  on — comes  foaming  down 
like  a  great  roan  horse,  and  reai-s  at  the  leap  of  the  hedge- 
rows. Then  are  the  gray  stone  walls  of  Blundell  on  every 
side  encompassed,  the  vale  is  spread  over  with  looping 
waters,  and  it  is  a  hard  thing  for  the  day-boys  to  get  home 
to  their  suppers. 

And  in  that  time,  the  porter,  old  Cop  (so-called  because 
he  hath  copper  boots  to  keep  the  wet  from  his  stomach, 
and  a  nose  of  copper  also,  in  right  of  other  waters),  his 
place  it  is  to  stand  at  the  gate,  attending  to  the  flood- 
boards  grooved  into  one  another,  and  so  to  watch  the  tor- 
rent's rise,  and  not  be  washed  away,  if  it  please  God  he 


4  LORNA  DOONE. 

may  help  it.  But  long  ere  the  flood  hath  attained  this 
height,  and  while  it  is  only  waxing,  certain  boys  of  deputy 
will  watch  at  the  stoop  of  the  drain-holes,  and  be  apt  to 
look  outside  the  walls,  when  Cop  is  taking  a  cordial.  And 
in  the  very  front  of  the  gate,  just  withou  t  the  archway, 
where  the  ground  is  paved  most  handsomely,  you  may  see 
in  copy-letters  done  a  great  P.  B.  of  white  pebbles.  Now 
it  is  the  custom  and  the  law  that  when  the  invading 
waters,  either  fluxing  along  the  wall  from  below 
the  road-bridge,  or  pouring  sharply  across  the  meadows 
from  a  cut  called  *' Owen's  ditch" — and  I  myself  have  seen 
it  con^e  both  ways — upon  the  very  instant  when  the  waxing 
element  lisps  though  it  bo  but  a  single  pebble  of  the 
founder's  letters,  it  is  in  the  license  of  any  boy,  soever 
small  and  undoctrined,  to  rush  into  the  great  school-rooms, 
where  a  score  of  masters  sit  heavily,  and  scream  at  the  top 
of  his  voice,  "P.  B." 

Then,  with  a  yell,  the  boys  leap  up,  or  break  away  from 
their  standing;  they  toss  their  caps  to  the  black-beamed 
roof,  and  haply  the  very  books  after  them;  and  the  great 
boys  vex  no  more  the  small  ones,  and  the  small  boys  stick 
up  to  the  great  ones.  One  with  another,  hard  they  go,  to 
see  the  gain  of  the  waters,  and  the  tribulation  of  Cop,  and  are 
prone  to  kick  the  day-boys  out,  with  words  of  scanty  com- 
pliment. Then  the  masters  look  at  one  another,  having 
no  class  to  look  to,  and  (boys  being  no  more  left  to  watch) 
in  a  manner  they  put  their  mouths  up.  With  a  spirited 
bang  they  close  their  books,  and  make  invitation  the  one 
to  the  other  for  pipes  and  foreign  cordials,  recommending 
the  chance  of  the  time,  and  the  comfort  away  from  cold 
water. 

But,  lo!  I  am  dwelling  on  little  things  and  the  pigeons' 
eggs  of  the  infancy,  forgetting  the  bitter  and  heavy  life 
gone  over  me  since  then.  If  I  am  neither  a  hard  man 
nor  a  very  close  one  God  knows  I  have  had  no  lack  of  rub- 
bing and  pounding  to  make  stone  of  me.  Yet  can  I  not 
somehow  believe  that  we  ought  to  hate  one  another,  to  live 
far  asunder,  and  block  the  mouth  each  of  his  little  den;  as 
do  the  wild  beasts  of  the  wood,  and  the  hairy  outangs  now 
brought  over,  each  with  a  chain  upon  him.  Let  that  mat- 
ter be  as  it  will.  It  is  beyond  me  to  unfold,  and  mayhap 
of  my  grandson's  grandson.  All  I  know  is  that  wheat  is 
better  than  when  I  began  to  sow  it. 


AN  IMPORTANT  ITEM. 


CHAPTER  II. 

AN   IMPORTANT  ITEM. 

Now  the  cause  of  my  leaving  Tiverton  school,  au4  the 
way  of  it,  were  as  follows:  On  the  29th  day  jl  No- 
vember, in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1673,  the  very  day  when  I 
was  twelve  years  old,  and  had  spent  all  my  substance 
in  sweetmeats,  with  which  I  made  treat  to  the  little 
boys,  till  the  large  boys  ran  in  and  took  them,  we  came 
out  of  school  at  five  o'clock,  as  the  rule  is  upon  Tuesdays. 
According  to  custom  we  drove  the  day-boys  in  brave  rout 
down  the  causeway  from  the  school-porch  even  to  the  gate 
where  Cop  has  his  dwelling  and  dutv.  Little  it 
recked  us  and  helped  them  less,  that  tli^y  were  our 
founder's  citizens,  and  haply  his  own  grandn*ephews  (for 
he  left  no  direct  descendants),  neither  did  we  much  in- 
quire what  their  lineage  was;  for  it  had  long  bev'"  fixed 
among  us,  who  were  of  the  house  and  chambers,  thai  these 
same  day-boys  were  all  "caddes,''  as  we  had  discovereJ  ^^ 
call  it,  because  they  paid  no  groat  for  their  schooling,  ai.'^ 
brought  their  own  commons  with  them.  In  consumptioa 
of  these  we  would  help  them,  for  our  fare  in  hall-fed  appe- 
tite; and  while  we  ate  their  victuals  we  allowed  them 
freely  to  talk  to  us.  Nevertheless,  we  could  not  feel,  when 
all  the  victuals  were  gone,  but  that  these  boys  required 
kicking  from  the  premises  of  Blundell.  And  some  of 
them  were  shopkeepers'  sons,  young  grocers,  fell-mongers: 
and  poulterers,  and  these  to  their  credit,  seemed  to  know 
how  righteous  it  was  to  kick  them.  But  others  were  of  high 
family,  as  any  need  be,  in  Devon — Carews,  and  Bouchers, 
and  Bastards,  and  some  of  these  would  turn  sometimes  and 
strike  the  boy  that  kicked  them.  But  to  do  them  justice, 
even  these  knew  that  they  must  be  kicked  for  not  paying. 

After  these  "charity  boys'*  were  gone,  as  in  contumely 
we  called  them — "  If  you  break  my  bag  ou  my  head,,"  said. 


6  LORNA  DOONE, 

one,  "  whence  will  you  dine  to  morrow?" — and  after  old 
Cop  with  clang  of  iron  had  jammed  the  double  gates 
in  under  the  scruff-stone  archway,  whereupon  are 
Latin  verses,  done  in  brass  of  small  quality,  some  of  us 
who  were  not  hungry,  and  cared  not  for  the  supper-bell, 
having  sucked  much  parliament  aud  dumps  at  my  only 
charges — not  that  I  ever  bore  much  wealth,  but  because  I 
had  been  thrif ting  it  for  this  time  of  my  birth — we  were 
leaning  quite  at  dusk  against  the  iron  bars  of  the  gate, 
some  six;  or  it  may  be  seven  of  us,  small  boys  all,  and  not 
conspicuous  in  the  closing  of  the  daylight  and  the  fog  that 
came  at  eventide,  else  Cop  would  have  rated  us  up  the 
green,  for  he  was  churly  to  little  boys  when  his  wife  had 
taken  their  money.  There  was  plenty  of  room  for  all  of 
us,  for  the  gate  will  hold  nine  boys  close  packed,  unless 
they  be  fed  rankly  whereof  is  little  danger;  aud  now  we 
were  looking  out  on  the  road  and  wishing  we  could  get 
there;  hoping,  moreover,  to  see  a  good  string  of  pack- 
horses  come  by,  with  troopers  to  protect  them.  For  the 
day-boys  had  brought  us  word  that  some  intending  their 
way  to  the  town  had  lain  that  morning  at  Sampford  Pev- 
eril,  and  must  be  in  ere  night-fall,  because  Mr.  Faggus 
was  after  them.  Now  Mr.  Faggus  was  my  first  cousin,  and 
an  honor  to  the  family,  being  a  Northmolton  man  of  great 
renown  on  the  highway  from  Barum  town  even  to  Lon- 
don. Therefore,  of  course,  I  hoped  that  he  would  catch 
the  pack-men,  and  the  boys  were  asking  my  opinion,  as  of 
an  oracle,  about  it. 

A  certain  boy  leaning  up  against  me  would  not  allow  my 
elbow  room,  and  struck  me  very  sadly  in  the  stomach  part 
though  his  own  was  full  of  my  parliament.  And  this  I 
felt  so  unkindly,  that  I  smote  him  straightway  in  the  face 
without  tarrying  to  consider  it,  or  weighing  the  question 
duly.  Upon  this  he  put  his  head  down,  and  presented  it 
so  vehemently  at  the  middle  of  my  waistcoat,  that  for  a 
minute  or  more  my  breath  seemed  dropped,  as  it  were,  from 
my  pockets,  and  my  life  seemed  to  stop  from  great  want  of 
ease.  Before  I  came  to  myself  again,  it  had  been  settled 
for  us  that  we  should  move  to  the  ^'  Ironing-box,"  as  the 
triangle  of  turf  is  called  where  the  two  causeways  coming 
from  the  school-porch  and  the  hall-porch  meet,  and  our 
fights  are  mainly  celebrated;  only  we  must  wait  until  tho 


AN  IMPORTANT  ITEM.  7 

convoy  of  horses  had  passed,  and  then  make  a  ring  by  can- 
dle-light, and  the  other  boys  would  like  it.  But  suddenly 
there  came  round  the  post  where  the  letters  of  our  founder 
are,  not  from  the  way  of  Taunton,  but  from  the  side  of 
Lowman  bridge,  a  very  small  string  of  horses,  only  two 
indeed  (counting  for  one  the  pony),  and  a  red-faced  man 
on  the  bigger  nag. 

*'  Plaise  ye,  worshipful  masters,"  he  said,  being  feared 
of  the  gate-way,  '*carn  'e  tull  whur  our  Jan  Ridd  be?" 

**  Hyur  a  be,  ees  fai,  Jan  Ridd,"  answered  a  sharp  little 
chap,  making  game  of  John  Fry's  language. 

"Zhow  un  up,  then,"  says  John  Fry,  poking  his  whip 
through  the  bars  at  us;  zhow  un  up,  and  putt  un  aowt." 

The  other  little  chaps  pointed  at  me,  and  some  began  to 
halloo;  but  I  knew  what  1  was  about. 

*' Oh,  John,  John,"  I  cried;  **  what's  the  use  of  your 
coming  now,  and  Peggy  over  the  moors,  too,  and  it  so  cruel 
cold  for  her?  The  holidays  don't  begin  till  Wednesday 
fortnight,  John.     To 'think  of  your  not  knowing  that!" 

John  Fry  leaned  forward  in  the  saddle,  and  turned  his 
eyes  away  from  me;  and  then  there  was  a  noise  in  his 
throat  like  a  snail  crawling  on  a  window-pane. 

*' Oh,  us  knaws  that  wuU  enough,  Maister  Jan;  reckon 
every  Oare-man  knawthat,  without  go  to  skoo-ull,  like  you 
doth.  Your  moother  have  kept  arl  the  apples  up,  and  old 
Betty  toorned  the  black  puddens,  and  none  dare  set  trap 
for  a  blagbird.  Arl  for  thee,  lad;  every  bit  of  it  now  for 
thee!" 

He  checked  himself  suddenly,  and  frightened  me.  I 
knew  that  John  Fry's  way  so  well. 

'^  And  father,  and  father — oli,  how  is  father?"  I  pushed 
the  boys  right  and  left  as  I  said  it.  "  John,  is  father  up 
in  town?  He  always  used  to  come  for  me,  and  leave 
nobody  else  to  do  it." 

"  Vayther'll  be  at  the  crooked  post,  tother  zide  o*  telling- 
house.*  He  coodn't  lave  'ouze  by  raison  of  the  Christmas 
bakkon  comin'  on,  and  zome  o'  the  cider  welted." 

He  looked  at  the  nag's  ears  as  he  said  it;  and,  being  up  to 

*  The   "  telling  houses "   on  the  moor  are  rude  cots  where  the 
shepherds  meet,  to  "tell"  their  sheep  at  the  end  of  the  pasturing 


8  LORNA  BOONE, 

John  Fry's  ways,  I  knew  that  it  was  a  lie.  And  my  heart 
fell  like  a  lump  of  lead,  and  I  leaned  back  on  the  stay  of 
the  gate,  and  longed  no  more  to  fight  anybody.  A  sort  of 
dull  power  hung  over  me,  like  the  cloud  of  a  brooding  tem- 
pest, and  I  feared  to  be  told  anything.  I  did  not  even 
care  to  stroke  the  nose  of  my  pony  Peggy,  although  she 
pushed  it  in  through  the  rails,  where  a  square  of  broader 
lattice  is,  and  sniffed  as  me,  and  began  to  crop  gently  after 
my  fingers.  But  whatever  lives  or  dies,  business  must  be 
attended  to;  and  the  principal  business  of  good  Christians 
is,  beyond  all  controversy,  to  fight  with  one  another. 

'*  Come  up.  Jack,"  said  one  of  the  boys,  lifting  me 
nnder  the  chin;  **he  hit  you,  and  you  hit  him,  you 
know." 

'*Pay  your  debts  before  you  go,"  said  a  monitor,  strid- 
ing up  to  me,  after  hearing  how  the  honor  lay;  *'Ridd, 
you  must  go  through  with  it." 

*^  Fight,  for  the  sake  of  the  junior  first,"  cried  the  little 
fellow  in  my  ear,  the  clever  one,  the  head  of  our  class,  who 
had  mocked  John  Fry,  and  knew  all  about  the  aorists,  and 
tiled  to  make  me  know  it;  but  I  never  went  more  than  three 
places  up,  and  then  it  was  an  accident,  and  I  came  down 
after  dinner.  The  boys  were  urgent  round  me  to  fight, 
though  my  stomach  was  not  up  for  it;  and  being  very  slow 
of  wit  (which  is  not  chargeable  on  me),  I  looked  from  one 
to  other  of  them,  seeking  any  cure  for  it.  Not  that  I  was 
afraid  of  fighting,  for  now  I  had  been  three  years  at  Blun- 
dell's,  and  foughten,  all  that  time,  a  fight  at  least  once 
every  week,  till  the  boys  began  to  know  me;  only  that  the 
load  on  my  heart  was  not  sprightly  as  of  the  hay-field.  It 
is  a  very  sad  thing  to  dwell  on;  but  even  now,  in  my  time 
of  wisdom,  I  doubt  it  is  a  fond  thing  to  imagine,  and  a 
motherly  to  insist  upon,  that  boys  can  do  without  fighting. 
Unless  they  be  very  good  boys,  and  afraid  of  one  another. 

**Nay,"I  said,  with  my  back  against  the  wrought-iron 
stay  of  the  gate,  which  was  socketed  into  Cop's  house- 
front;  ''  I  will  not  fight  thee  now,  Robin  Snell,  but  wait 
till  I  come  back  again." 

*'Take  coward's  blow,  Jack  Ridd,  then,"  cried  half  a 
dozen  little  boys,  shoving  Bob  Snell  forward  to  do  it;  because 
they  all  knew  well  enough,  having  striven  with  me  ere  now, 
and  proved  me  to  be  their  master — they  knew,  I  say,  that 


AN  IMPORTANT  ITEM.  9 

without  great  change  I  would  never  accept  that  contumely. 
But  I  took  little  heed  of  them,  looking  in  dull  wonder- 
ment at  John  Fry,  and  Smiler,  and  the  blunderbuss  and 
Peggy.  John  Fry  was  scratching  his  head,  I  could  see, 
and  getting  blue  in  the  face,  by  the  light  from  Cop^s  parlor 
window,  and  going  to  and  fro  upon  Smiler,  as  if  he  were 
hard  set  with  it.  And  all  the  time  he  was  looking  briskly 
from  my  eyes  to  the  fist  I  was  clenching,  and  methought 
he  tried  to  wink  at  me  in  a  covert  manner;  and  then 
Peggy  whisked  her  tail. 

*' Shall  1  fight,  John?''  I  said  at  last;  **  I  would  an  you 
had  not  come,  John." 

**Ohraist's  will  be  done;  I  zim  thee  had  better  faighfc, 
Jan/'  he  answered,  in  a  whisper,  through  the  gridiron  of 
the  gate;  **  there  be  a  dale  of  faighting  avore  thee.  Best 
wai  to  begin  gude  taime  laike.  WuU  the  geatman  latt  me 
in,  to  zee  as  thee  hast  vair  plai,  lad  ?" 

He  looked  doubtfully  down  at  the  color  of  his  cowskin 
boots,  and  the  mire  upon  the  horses,  for  the  sloughs  were 
exceeding  mucky.  Peggy,  indeed,  my  sorrel  pony,  being 
lighter  of  weight,  was  not  crusted  much  over  the  shoulders; 
but  Smiler  (our  youngest  sledder)  had  been  well  in  over 
his  withers,  and  none  would  have  deemed  him  a  piebald, 
save  of  red  mire  and  black  mire.  The  great  blunderbuss, 
moreover,  was  choked  with  a  dollop  of  slough-cake;  and 
John  Fry's  sad-colored  Sunday  hat  was  indued  with  a 
plume  of  marish-weed.  All  this  I  saw  while  he  was  dis- 
mounting, heavily  and  wearily,  lifting  his  leg  from  the 
saddle-cloth  as  if  with  a  sore  crick  in  his  back. 

By  this  time  the  question  of  fighting  was  gone  quite  out 
of  our  own  discretion;  for  sundry  of  the  elder  boys,  grave 
and  reverend  signers,  who  had  taken  no  small  pleasure  in 
teaching  our  hands  to  fight,  to  ward,  to  parry,  to  feign 
and  counter,  to  lunge  in  the  manner  of  sword-play,  and 
the  weaker  child  to  drop  on  one  knee  when  no  cunning  of 
fence  might  baffle  the  onset — these  great  masters  of  the 
art,  who  would  far  liefer  see  us  little  ones  practice  it  than 
themselves  engage,  six  or  seven  of  them  came  running 
down  the  rounded  causeway,  having  heard  that  there  had 
arisen  "  a  snug  little  mill "  at  the  gate.  Now,  whether 
that  word  hath  origin  in  a  Greek  term  meaning  a  conflict, 
as  the  best-read  boys  asseverated,  or  whether  it  is  nothing 


10  LORNA  DOONE. 

more  than  a  figure  of  similitude,  from  the  beating  arms  of 
a  mill,  such  as  I  have  seen  in  counties  where  are  no  water- 
brooks,  but  folk  make  bread  with  wind — it  is  not  for  a 
man  devoid  of  scholarship  to  determine.  Enough  that 
they  who  made  the  ring  intituled  the  scene  a  '*  mill,"  while 
we  who  must  be  thumped  inside  it  tried  to  rejoice  in  their 
pleasantry,  till  it  turned  upon  the  stomach. 

Moreover,  I  felt  upon  me  now  a  certain  responsi- 
bility, a  dutiful  need  to  maintain,  in  the  presence  of  John 
Fry,  the  manliness  of  the  Ridd  family,  and  the  honor  of 
Exmoor.  Hitherto  none  had  worsted  me,  although  in  the 
three  years  of  my  schooling  I  had  fought  more  than  three- 
score battles,  and  bedewed  with  blood  every  plant  of  grass 
toward  the  middle  of  the  Ironing-box.  And  this  success 
I  owed  at  first  to  no  skill  of  my  own,  until  I  came  to  know 
better;  for  up  to  twenty  or  thirty  fights,  I  struck  as  nature 
guided  me,  no  wiser  than  a  father  long-legs  in  the  heat  of 
a  lantern;  but  I  had  conquered,  partly  through  m^  native 
strength  and  the  Exmoor  toughness  in  me,  and  still  more 
that  I  could  not  see  when  I  had  gotten  my  bellyful.  But 
now  I  was  like  to  have  that  and  more;  for  my  heart  was 
down,  to  begin  with;  and  then  Robert  Snell  was  a  bigger 
boy  than  I  had  ever  encountered,  and  as  thick  in  the  skull 
and  hard  in  the  brain  as  even  I  could  claim  to  be. 

I  had  never  told  my  mother  a  word  about  these  frequent 
strivings,  because  she  was  soft-hearted;  neither  had  I  told 
my  father,  because  he  had  not  seen  it.  Therefore,  behold- 
ing me  still  an  innocent-looking  child,  with  fair  curls  on 
my  forehead,  and  no  store  of  bad  language,  John  Fry 
thought  this  was  the  very  first  fight  that  ever  had  befallen 
me;  and  so  when  they  let  him  in  at  the  gate,  "  with  a 
message  to  the  head-master,"  as  one  of  the  monitors  told 
Cop,  and  Peggy  and  Smiler  were  tied  to  the  railings  till  I 
should  be  through  my  business,  John  comes  up  to  me  with 
the  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  says,  '^Doon't  thee  goo  for  to  do 
it,  Jan;  doon't  thee  do  it,  for  gude  now."  But  I  told  him 
that  now  it  was  much  too  late  to  cry  off;  so  he  said,  *'  The 
Lord  be  with  thee,  Jan,  and  turn  thy  thumb-knuckle 
inward." 

It  is  not  a  very  large  piece  of  ground  in  the  angle  of  the 
causeways,  but  quite  big  enough  to  fight  upon,  especially 
for  Christians,  who  love  to  be  cheek  by  jowl  at  it.     The 


Alf  IMPORTANT  ITEM.  U 

great  boys  stood  in  a  circle  around,  being  gifted  with  strong 
privilege,  and  the  little  boys  had  leave  to  lie  flat  and  look 
tlirough  the  legs  of  the  great  boys.  But  while  we  were 
yet  preparing,  and  the  candles  hissed  in  the  fog-cloud,  old 
Phoebe,  of  more  than  fourscore  years,  whose  room  was  over 
the  hall-porch,  came  hobbling  out,  as  she  always  did,  to 
mar  the  joy  of  the  conflict.  No  one  ever  heeded  her, 
neither  did  she  expect  it;  but  the  evil  was  that  two  senior 
boys  must  always  lose  the  first  round  of  the  fight  by  having 
to  lead  her  home  again. 

I  marvel  how  Robin  Snell  felt.  Very  likely  he  thought 
nothing  of  it,  always  having  been  a  boy  of  a  hectoring  and 
unruly  sort.  But  I  felt  my  heart  go  up  and  down  as  the 
boys  came  round  to  strip  me;  and  greatly  fearing  to  be 
beaten,  I  blew  hot  upon  my  knuckles.  Then  pulled  I  off 
my  little  cut  jerkin  and  laid  it  down  on  my  head  cap,  and 
over  that  my  waistcoat,  and  a  boy  was  proud  to  take  care 
of  them,  Thomas  Hooper  was  his  name,  and  I  remember 
how  he  looked  at  me.  My  mother  had  made  that  little 
cut  jerkin  in  the  quiet  winter  evenings,  and  taken  pride  to 
loop  it  up  in  a  fashionable  way,  and  I  was  loath  to  soil  it 
with  blood,  and  good  filberds  were  in  the  pocket.  Then 
up  to  me  came  Robin  Snell  (mayor  of  Exeter  thrice  since 
that),  and  he  stood  very  square,  and  looked  at  me,  and  I 
lacked  not  long  to  look  at  him.  Round  his  waist  he 
had  a  kerchief  busking  up  his  small-clothes,  and  on  his 
feet  light  pumpkin  shoes,  and  all  his  upper  raiment  off. 
And  he  danced  about  in  a  way  that  made  my  head  swim 
on  my  shoulders,  and  he  stood  some  inches  over  me.  But 
I,  being  muddled  with  much  doubt  about  John  Fry  and 
his  errand,  was  only  stripped  of  my  jerkin  and  waistcoat, 
and  not  comfortable  to  begin. 

**  Come  now,  shake  hands,*'  cried  a  big  boy,  jumping  in 
joy  of  the  spectacle,  a  third-former  nearly  six  feet  high; 
'*  shake  hands,  you  little  devils.  Keep  your  pluck  up,  and 
show  good  sport,  and  Lord  love  the  better  man  of  you." 

Robin  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  gazed  at  me  disdain- 
fully, and  then  smote  me  painfully  in  the  face,  ere  I  could 
get  mv  fence  up. 

'^Whutt  be  'bout,  lad?"  cried  John  Fry;  "hutt  un 
again,  Jan,  wull  'e?    Well  done  then,  our  Jan  boy." 

For  I  had  replied  to  Robin  now,  with  all  the  weight  and 


12  LORNA  DOONIS, 

cadence  of  penthemimeral  caesura  (a  thing,  the  name  of 
which  1  know,  but  could  never  make  head  nor  tail  of  it), 
and  the  strife  began  in  a  serious  style,  and  the  boys  looking 
on  were  not  cheated.  Although  I  could  not  collect  their 
shouts  when  the  blows  were  ringing  upon  me;  it  was  no 
great  loss;  for  John  Fry  told  me  afterward  that  their  oaths 
went  up  like  a  furnace  fire.  But  to  these  we  paid  no  heed 
or  hap,  being  in  the  thick  of  swinging,  and  devoid  of 
judgment.  AH  I  know  is,  I  came  to  my  corner,  when  the 
round  was  over,  with  very  hard  pumps  in  my  chest,  and  a 
great  desire  to  fall  away. 

'''  Time  is  up,^'  cried  head-monitor  ere  ever  I  got  my 
breath  again;  and  when  I  fain  would  have  lingered  a  while 
on  the  knee  of  the  boy  that  held  me.  John  Fry  had  come 
up,  and  the  boys  were  laughing  because  he  wanted  a  stable 
lantern,  and  threatened  to  tell  my  mother. 

*^  Time  is  up,"  cried  another  boy,  more  headlong  than 
head-monitor.  ''If  we  count  three  before  the  come  of 
thee,  thwacked  thou  art,  and  must  go  to  the  women. '^  I 
felt  it  hard  upon  me.  He  began  to  count,  one,  two,  three 
— but  before  the  '*  three  "  was  out  of  his  mouth,  I  was  facing 
my  foe,  with  both  hands  up,  and  my  breath  going  rough 
and  hot,  and  resolved  to  wait  the  turn  of  it.  For  I  had 
found  seat  on  the  knee  of  a  boy  sage  and  skilled  to  tutor 
me,  who  knew  how  much  the  end  very  often  differs  from 
the  beginning.  A  rare  ripe  scholar  he  was;  and  now  he 
hath  routed  up  the  Germans  in  the  matter  of  criticism. 
Sure  the  clever  boys  and  men  have  most  love  toward  tlie 
stupid  ones. 

''Fiitish  him  off.  Bob,"  cried  a  big  boy,  and  that  I 
noticed  especially,  because  I  thought  it  unkind  of  him, 
after  eating  of  my  taffee  as  he  had  that  afternoon;  "  finish 
him  off,  neck  and  crop;  he  deserves  it  for  sticking  up  to  a 
man  like  you." 

But  I  was  not  so  to  be  finished  off,  though  feeling  in  my 
knuckles  now  as  if  it  were  a  blueness  and  a  sense  of  chilblain. 
Nothing  held  except  my  legs,  and  they  were  good  to  help 
me.  So  this  bout,  or  round,  if  you  please,  was  foughten 
warily  by  me,  with  gentle  recollection  of  what  my  tutor, 
the  clever  boy,  had  told  me,  and  some  resolve  to  earn  his 

f  raise  before  I  came  back  to  his  knee  again.     And  never, 
think;  in  all  my  life,  sounded  sweeter  words  in  my  ears 


Ay  IMPORTANT  ITEM,  13 

(except  when  my  love  loved  me)  than  when  my  second 
and  backer,  who  had  made  himself  part  of  my  doings  now, 
and  would  have  wept  to  see  me  beaten,  said: 

"Famously  done,  Jack,  famously!  Only  keep  your 
wind  up.  Jack,  and  you'll  go  right  through  him!" 

Meanwhile  John  Fry  was  prowling  about,  asking  the 
boys  what  they  thought  of  it,  and  whether  I  was  like  to 
be  killed,  because  of  my  mother's  trouble.  But  finding 
now  that  I  had  fougliten  threescore  fights  already,  he  came 
up  to  me  woefully,  in  the  quickness  of  my  breathing,  while 
I  sat  on  the  knee  of  my  second,  with  a  piece  of  spongious 
coralline  to  ease  me  of  my  bloodshed;  and  he  says  in  my 
ears,  as  if  he  were  clapping  spurs  into  a  horse. 

**  Never  thee  knack  under,  Jan,  or  never  coom  naigh 
Hexmoor  no  more." 

With  that  it  was  all  up  with  me.  A  simmering  buzzed 
in  my  heavy  brain,  and  a  light  came  through  my  eye- 
places.  At  once  I  set  both  fists  again,  and  my  heart  stuck 
to  me  like  cobbler's  wax.  Either  Robin  Snell  should  kill 
me,  or  I  would  conquer  Robin  Snell.  So  I  went  in  again 
with  my  courage  up,  and  Bob  came  smiling  for  victory, 
and  I  hated  him  for  smiling.  He  let  at  me  with  his  left 
hand,  and  I  gave  him  my  right  between  his  eyes,  and  he 
blinked,  and  was  not  pleased  with  it.  I  feared  him  not, 
and  spared  him  not,  neither  spared  myself.  My  breath 
came  again,  and  my  heart  stood  cool,  and  my  eyes  struck 
fire  no  longer.  Only  I  knew  that  I  would  die  sooner  than 
shame  my  birth-place.  How  the  rest  of  it  was  I  know  not; 
only  that  I  had  the  end  of  it,  and  helped  to  put  Robin  in 
bed. 


14  JLOESA  DOO^M 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   WAR-PATH  OF  THE   DOOKES. 

From  Tiverton  town  to  the  town  of  Oare  is  a  very  long 
and  painful  road,  and  in  good  truth  the  traveler  must 
make  his  way,  as  the  saying  is;  for  the  way  is  still  unmade, 
at  least,  on  this  side  of  Dulverton,  although  there  is  less 
danger  now  than  in  the  time  of  my  schooling;  for  now  a 
good  horse  may  go  there  without  much  cost  of  leaping,  but 
when  1  was  a  boy  the  spurs  would  fail,  when  needed  most, 
by  reason  of  the  slough-cake.  It  is  to  the  credit  of  this 
age,  and  our  advance  upon  fatherly  ways,  that  now  we  have 
laid  down  rods  and  fagots,  and  even  stump-oaks  here  and 
there,  so  that  a  man  in  good  daylight  need  not  sink  if  he 
be  quite  sober.  There  is  nothing  I  have  striven  at  more 
than  doing  my  duty,  way-warden  over  Exmoor. 

But  in  those  days,  when  I  came  from  school  (and  good 
times  they  were,  too,  full  of  warmth  and  fine  hearth-com- 
fort, which  now  are  dying  out),  it  was  a  sad  and  sorry  busi- 
ness to  find  whore  lay  the  highway.  Wo  are  taking  now 
to  mark  it  off  with  a  fence  on  either  side,  at  least,  when  a 
town  is  handy;  but  to  me  this  seems  of  a  high  pretense, 
and  a  sort  of  landmark  and  channel  for  robbers,  though 
well  enough  near  London,  where  they  have  earned  a  race- 
course. 

We  left  the  town  of  the  two  fords,  which  they  say  is  the 
meaning  of  it,  very  early  in  the  morning,  after  lying  one 
day  to  rest,  as  was  demanded  by  the  nags,  sore  of  foot  and 
foundered.  For  my  part,  too,  I  was  glad  to  rest,  having 
aches  all  over  me,  and  very  heavy  bruises;  and  we  lodged 
at  the  sign  of  the  White  Horse  Inn,  in  the  street  called 
Gold  Street,  opposite  where  the  souls  are  of  John  and  Joan 
Greenway,  set  up  in  gold  letters,  because  we  must  take  the 
homeward  way  at  cock-crow  of  the  morning.  Though  still 
John  Fry  was  dry  with  mo  of  the  reason  of  his  coming,  and 


TSB  WAH-PATIi  OF  THE  DOONES,  15 

only  told  lies  about  father,  and  could  not  keep  them  agree- 
able, I  hoped  for  the  best,  as  all  boys  will,  especially  after 
a  victory.  And  I  thought,  perhapsfather  had  sent  for  me 
because  he  had  a  good  harvest,  and  the  rats  were  bad  in  the 
corn-chamber. 

It  was  high  noon  before  we  were  got  to  Dulverton  that 
day,  near  to  which  town  the  river  Exe  and  its  big  brother 
Barle  have  union.  My  mother  had  an  uncle  living  there, 
but  we  were  not  to  visit  his  house  this  time,  at  which  I  was 
somewhat  astonished,  since  we  needs  must  stop  for  at  least 
two  hours,  to  bait  our  horses  thorough  well,  before  coming 
to  tlie  black  bogway.  The  bogs  are  very  good  in  frost,  ex- 
cept where  the  hot-springs  rise;  but  as  yet  there  had  been 
no  frost  this  year,  save  just  enough  to  make  the  black- 
birds look  big  in  the  morning.  In  a  hearty  black-frost 
they  look  small,  until  the  snow  falls  over  them. 

The  road  from  Bampton  to  Dulverton  had  not  been  very 
delicate,  yet  nothing  to  complain  of  much — no  deeper,  in- 
deed, than  the  hocks  of  a  horse,  except  in  the  rotten 
places.  The  day  was  inclined  to  be  mild  and  foggy,  and 
both  nags  sweated  freely;  but  Peggy  carrying  little  weight 
(for  my  wardrobe  was  upon  Smiler,  and  John  Fry  grum- 
bling always),  we  could  easily  keep  in  front,  as  far  as  you 
may  hear  a  laugh. 

John  had  been  rather  bitter  with  me,  which  methought 
was  a  mark  of  ill-taste  at  coming  home  for  the  holidays; 
and  yet  I  made  allowance  for  John,  because  he  had  never 
been  at  school,  and  never  would  have  chance  to  eat  fry 
upon  condition  of  spelling  it;  therefore  I  rode  on,  thinking 
that  he  was  hard-set,  like  a  saw,  for  his  dinner,  and  would 
soften  after  tooth-work.  And  yet  at  his  most  hungry 
times,  when  his  mind  was  far  gone  upon  bacon,  certes  he 
seemed  to  check  himself  and  look  at  me  as  if  he  were 
sorry  for  little  things  coming  over  great. 

But  now,  at  Dulverton,  we  dined  upon  the  rarest  and 
choicest  victuals  that  ever  I  did  taste.  Even  now,  at  my 
time  of  life,  to  think  of  it  gives  me  appetite,  at  once  and 
awhile  to  think  of  my  first  love  makes  me  love  all  good- 
ness. Hot  mutton  pasty  was  a  thing  I  had  often  heard  of 
from  very  wealthy  boys  and  men,  who  made  a  dessert  of 
dinner;  and  to  hear  them  talk  of  it  made  my  lips  smack, 
and  my  ribs  come  inward. 


16  LORNA  WONE. 

And  now  John  Fry  strode  into  the  hostel,  with  the  air 
and  grace  of  a  short-legged  man,  and  shouted  as  loud  as  if 
he  was  calling  sheep  upon  Exmoor: 

"  Hot  mootton  pasty  for  twoo  trarv'lers,  at  number 
vaive,  in  vaive  minnits!  Dish  un  up  in  the  tin  with  the 
grahvy,  zame  as  I  hardered  last  Tuesday/' 

Of  course  it  did  not  come  in  five  minutes,  nor  yet  in  ten 
or  twenty;  but  that  made  it  all  the  better  when  it  came  to 
the  real  presence;  and  the  smell  of  it  was  enough  to  make 
an  empty  man  thank  God  for  the  room  there  was  inside 
him.  Fifty  years  have  passed  me  quicker  than  the  taste 
of  that  gravy. 

It  is  the*^  manner  of  all  good  boys  to  be  careless  of 
apparel,  and  take  no  pride  in  adornment.  Good  lack,  if  I 
see  a  boy  make  todo  about  the  fit  of  his  crumpler,  and  the 
creasing  of  his  breeches,  and  desire  to  be  shod  for  comeli- 
ness rather  than  for  use,  I  can  not  'scape  the  mark  that 
God  took  thought  to  make  a  girl  of  him.  Not  so  when 
they  grow  older,  and  court  the  regard  of  the  maidens;  then 
may  the  bravery  pass  from  the  inside  to  the  outside  of 
them;  and  no  bigger  fools  are  they,  even  then,  than  their 
fathers  were  before  them.  But  God  forbid  any  man  to  be 
a  fool  to  love,  and  be  loved,  as  I  have  been.  Else  would 
he  have  prevented  it. 

When  the  mutton  pasty  was  done,  and  Peggy  and  Smiler 
had  dined  well  also,  out  I  went  to  wash  at  the  pump,  being 
a  lover  of  soap  and  water,  at  all  risk,  except  of  my  dinner. 
And  John  Fry,  who  cared  very  little  to  wash,  save  Sab- 
bath days  in  his  own  soap,  and  who  had  kept  me  from  the 
pump  by  threatening  loss  of  the  dish,  out  he  came  in  a 
satisfied  manner,  with  a  piece  of  quill  in  his  hand,  to  lean 
against  a  door-post,  and  listen  to  the  horses  feeding,  and 
have  his  teeth  ready  for  supper. 

Then  a  lady's  maid  came  out,  and  the  sun  was  on  her 
face,  and  she  turned  round  to  go  back  again;  but  put  a 
better  face  upon  it,  and  gave  a  trip  and  hitched  her  dress, 
and  looked  at  the  sun  full  body,  lest  the  hostlers  should 
laugh  that  she  was  losing  her  complexion.  With  a  long 
Italian  glass  in  her  fingers  very  daintily,  she  came  up  to  the 
pump  in  the  middle  of  the  yard,  where  I  was  running  the 
water  off  all  my  head  and  shoulders  and  arms,  and  some  off 
my  breast  even,  and  though  I  had  glimpsed  her  through 


TSE  WAtt-PATH  OF  TIlU  DOOJSES,  Yt 

the  sprinkle,  it  gave  me  quite  a  turn  to  see  her,  child  as  I 
was,  in  my  open  aspect.  But  she  looked  at  me,  no  whit 
abashed,  making  a  baby  of  me,  no  doubt,  as  a  woman  of 
thirty  will  do,  even  with  a  very  big  boy  when  they  catch 
him  on  a  hay-rick,  and  she  said  to  me,  in  a  brazen  manner, 
as  if  I  had  been  nobody,  while  I  was  shrinking  behind  the 
pump,  and  craving  to  get  my  shirt  on,  ^*  Good  leetle  boy, 
come  hither  to  me.  Fine  heaven!  how  blue  your  eyes  are, 
and  your  skin  like  snow;  but  some  naughty  man  has  beaten 
it  black.  Oh,  leetle  boy,  let  me  feel  it.  Ah,  how  then  it 
must  have  hurt  you!     There  now,  and  you  shall  love  me." 

All  this  time  she  was  touching  my  breast,  here  and 
there,  very  lightly,  with  her  delicate  brown  fingers,  and  I 
understood  from  her  voice  and  manner  that  she  was  not  of 
this  country,  but  a  foreigner  by  extraction.  And  then  I 
was  not  so  shy  of  her,  because  I  could  talk  better  English 
than  she;  and  yet  I  longed  for  my  jerkin,  but  liked  not  to 
be  rude  to  her. 

'^If  you  please,  madam,  I  must  go.  John  Fry  is  wait- 
ing by  the  tapster  door,  and  Peggy  neighing  to  me.  If 
you  please,  we  must  get  home  to-night;  and  father  will  be 
waiting  for  me  this  side  of  the  telling-house." 

"  There,  there,  you  shall  go,  leetle  dear,  and  perhaps  I 
will  go  after  you.  I  have  taken  much  love  of  you.  But 
the  Baroness  is  hard  to  me.  How  far  you  call  it  now  to 
the  bank  of  the  sea  at  Wash — Wash ■'" 

"At  Watchett,  likely  you  mean,  madam.  Oh,  a  very 
long  way,  and  the  roads  as  soft  as  the  road  to  Oare." 

*^  Oh-ah,  oh-ah — I  shall  remember;  that  is  the  place 
where  my  leetle  boy  live,  and  some  day  I  will  come  seek 
for  him.  Now  make  the  pump  to  flow,  my  dear,  and  give 
me  the  good  water.  The  Baroness  will  not  touch  unless  a 
nebule  be  formed  outside  the  glass." 

I  did  not  know  what  she  meant  by  that;  yet  I  pumped 
for  her  very  heartily,  and  marveled  to  see  her  for  fifty  times 
throw  the  water  away  in  the  trough,  as  if  it  was  not  good 
enough.  At  last  the  water  suited  her,  with  the  likeness  of 
fog  outside  the  glass,  and  the  gleam  of  a  crystal  under  it, 
and  then  she  made  a  courtesy  to  me,  in  a  sort  of  mocking 
manner,  holding  the  long  glass  by  the  foot,  not  to  take  the 
cloud  off;  and  then  she  wanted  to  kiss  me;  but  I  was  out 
of  breath,  and  have  always  been  shy  of  that  work,  except 


18  LORNA  DOON^, 

when  I  come  to  offer  ifc;  and  so  I  ducked  under  the  pump- 
handle,  and  she  knocked  her  chin  on  the  knob  of  it;  and 
the  hostlers  came  out,  and  asked  whether  th'ey  would  do  as 
well. 

Upon  this,  she  retreated  up  the  yard,  with  a  certain  dark 
dignity,  and  a  foreign  way  of  walking,  which  stopped  them 
at  once  from  going  further,  because  it  was  so  different 
from  the  fashion  of  their  sweethearts.  One  with  another 
they  hung  back,  where  half  a  cart-load  of  hay  was,  and 
they  looked  to  be  sure  that  she  would  not  turn  round;  and 
then  each  one  laughed  at  the  rest  of  them. 

Now,  up  to  the  end  of  Dulverton  town,  on  the  north- 
ward side  of  it,  where  the  two  new  pig-sties  be,  the  Oare 
folk  and  the  Watchett  folk  must  trudge  on  together,  until 
we  come  to  a  broken  cross,  where  a  murdered  man  lies 
buried.  Peggy  and  Smiler  went  up  the  hill,  as  if  nothing 
could  be  too  much  for  them,  after  the  beans  tliey  had 
eaten,  and  suddenly  turning  a  corner  of  trees,  we  happened 
upon  a  great  coach  and  six  horses  laboring  very  heavily. 
John  Fry  rode  on  with  his  hat  in  liis  hand,  as  became  him, 
toward  the  quality;  but  I  was  amazed  to  that  degree,  that 
I  left  my  cap  on  my  head  and  drew  bridle  without 
knowing  it. 

For  in  the  front  seat  of  the  coach,  which  was  half-way 
open,  being  of  new  city-make  and  the  day  in  want  of  air, 
sat  the  foreign  lady,  who  had  met  me  at  the  pump  and 
offered  to  salute  me.  By  her  side  was  a  little  girl,  dark- 
haired  and  very  wonderful,  with  a  wealthy  softness  on  her, 
as  if  she  must  have  her  own  way.  I  could  not  look  at  her 
for  two  glances,  and  she  did  not  look  at  me  for  one,  being 
such  a  little  child,  and  busy  with  the  hedges.  But  in  the 
honorable  place  sat  a  handsome  lady,  very  warmly  dressed 
and  sweetly  delicate  of  color.  And  close  to  her  was  a 
lively  child,  two,  or  it  may  be  three  years  old,  bearing  a 
white  cockade  in  his  hat,  and  staring  at  all  and  everybody. 
Now  he  saw  Peggy,  and  took  such  a  liking  to  her,  that  the 
lady  his  mother — if  so  she  were — was  forced  to  look  at  my 
pony  and  me.  And,  to  tell  the  truth,  although  I  am  not 
of  those  who  adore  the  high  folk,  she  looked  at  us  very 
kindly  and  with  a  sweetness  rarely  found  in  the  women 
who  milk  the  cows  for  us. 

Then  I  took  off  my  cap  to  the  beautiful  lady,  without 


THE  WAR-PATH  OF  THE  D00NE8.  19 

asking  wherefore;  and  she  put  up  her  hand  and  kissed  it 
to  me,  thinking,  perhaps,  that  I  looked  like  a  gentle  and 
good  little  boy;  for  folk  always  called  me  innocent,  though 
God  knows  I  never  was  that.  But  now  the  foreign  lady, 
or  lady's  maid,  as  it  might  be,  who  had  been  busy  with 
little  (lark-eyes,  turned  upon  all  this  going  on,  and  looked 
me  straight  in  the  face.  I  was  about  to  salute  her,  at  a 
distance,  indeed,  and  not  with  the  nicety  she  had  offered 
to  me,  but,  strange  to  say,  she  stared  at  my  eyes  as  if  she 
had  never  seen  me  before,  neither  wished  to  see  me  again. 
At  this  I  was  so  startled,  such  things  being  out  of  my 
knowledge,  that  I  startled  Peggy  also  with  the  muscle  of  my 
legs,  and  she  being  fresh  from  stable,  and  the  mire  scraped  off 
with  cask-hoop,  broke  away  so  suddenly  that  I  could  do  no 
more  than  turn  round  and  lower  my  cap,  now  five  months 
old,  to  the  beautiful  lady.  Soon  I  overtook  John  Fry, 
and  asked  him  all  about  them,  and  how  it  was  that  we 
had  missed  their  starting  from  the  hostel.  But  John 
would  never  talk  much  till  after  a  gallon  of  cider;  and 
all  that  I  could  win  out  of  him  was  that  they  were 
*'  murdering  Papishers,"  and  little  he  cared  to  do  with 
them,  or  the  devil  as  they  came  from.  And  a  good  thing 
for  me,  and  a  providence,  that  I  was  gone  down  Dulverton 
town  to  buy  sweet-stuff  for  Annie,  else  my  stupid  head 
would  have  gone  astray  with  their  great  outcoming. 

We  saw  no  more  of  them  after  that,  but  turned  into  the 
sideway,  and  soon  had  the  fill  of  our  hands  and  eyes  to 
look  to  our  own  going.  For  the  road  got  worse  and  worse, 
until  there  was  none  at  all,  and  perhaps  the  purest  thing 
it  could  do  was  to  be  ashamed  to  show  itself.  But  we 
pushed  on  as  best  we  might,  with  doubt  of  reaching  home 
any  time,  except  by  special  grace  of  God. 

The  fog  came  down  upon  the  moors  as  thick  as  I  ever 
saw  it;  and  there  was  no  sound  of  any  sort,  nor  a  breath 
of  wind  to  guide  us.  The  little  stubby  trees  that  stand 
here  and  there,  like  bushes  with  a  wooden  leg  to  them, 
v/ere  drizzled  with  a  mess  of  wet,  and  hung  their  points 
with  dropping.  Wherever  the  butt-end  of  a  hedge-row 
came  up  from  tiie  hollow  ground,  like  the  withers  of  a 
horse,  holes  of  splash  were  pocked  and  pimpled  in  the 
yellow  sand  of  coneys,  or  under  the  dwarf-tree's  ovens. 
But  soon  it  was  too  dark  to  see  that,  or  anything  else,  I 


20  LORNA  JDOONE. 

may  say,  except  the  creases  in  the  dusk,  where  prisoned 
light  crept  up  the  valleys. 

After  a  while  even  that  was  gone,  and  no  other  comfort 
left  us  except  to  see  our  horses'  heads  jogging  to  their  foot- 
steps, and  the  dark  ground  pass  below  us,  lighter  where 
the  wet  was;  and  then  the  splash,  foot  after  foot,  more 
clever  than  we  can  do  it,  and  the  orderly  jerk  of  the  tail 
and  the  smell  of  what  a  horse  is. 

John  Fry  was  bowing  forward  with  sleep  upon  his 
saddle,  and  now  I  could  no  longer  see  the  frizzle  of  wet 
upon  his  beard — for  he  had  a  very  brave  one,  of  a  bright 
red  color,  and  trimmed  into  a  whale-oil  knot,  because  he 
was  newly  married — although  that  comb  of  hair  had  been 
a  subject  of  some  wonder  to  me,  whether  I,  in  God's  good 
time,  sliould  have  the  like  of  that,  handsomely  set  with 
shining  beads,  small  above  and  large  below,  from  the  weep- 
ing of  the  heaven.  But  still  I  could  see  the  jog  of  his 
hat — a  Sunday  hat  with  a  top  to  it — and  some  of  his 
shoulder  bowed  out  in  the  mist,  so  that  one  could  say, 
*•  Hold  up,  John,"  when  Smiler  put  his  foot  in. 

''Mercy  of  God!  Where  be  us  now?"  said  John  Fry, 
waking  suddenly;  '*  us  ought  to  have  passed  hold  hash, 
Jan.     Zeen  it  on  the  road,  have  'ee?'' 

^'  No  indeed,  John;  no  old  ash.  Nor  nothing  else  to  my 
knowing;  nor  heard  nothing,  save  thee  snoring." 

*'Watt  a  vule  thee  must  be  then,  Jan;  and  me  myzell  no 
better.     Harken,  lad,  harken!" 

We  drew  our  horses  up  and  listened,  through  the  thick- 
ness of  the  air,  and  with  our  hands  laid  to  our  ears.  At 
first  there  was  nothing  to  hear,  except  the  panting  of  the 
horses  and  the  trickle  of  the  caving  drops  from  our  head- 
covers  and  clothing,  and  the  soft  sounds  of  the  lonely  night, 
that  make  us  feel,  and  try  not  to  think.  Then  there  came 
a  mellow  noise,  very  low  and  mournsome,  not  a  sound  to 
be  afraid  of,  but  to  long  too  know  the  meaning,  with  a  soft 
rise  of  the  hair.  Three  times  it  came  and  went  again,  as 
the  shaking  of  a  thread  might  pass  away  into  the  distance; 
and  then  I  touched  John  Fry  to  know  that  there  was 
something  near  me. 

''  Doon't  'e  be  a  vule,  Jan!  Vaine  moozick  as  iver  I  'eer, 
God  bless  the  man  as  made  un  doo  it!" 

*'Have  they  hanged  one  of  the  Doones  then,  John?" 


THE  WAR-PATH  OF  THE  D00NE8.  21 

*'  Hush,  lad;  niver  talk  laike  o'  thiccy.  Hang  a  Doone! 
God  knoweth  the  King  would  hang  pretty  quick  if  her 
did." 

*'  Then  who  is  it  in  the  chains,,  John?" 

I  felt  my  spirit  rise  as  I  asked;  for  now  I  had  crossed 
Exmoor  so  often  as  to  hope  that  the  people  sometimes  de- 
served it,  and  think  that  it  might  be  a  lesson  to  the  rogues 
who  unjustly  loved  the  mutton  they  were  never  born  to. 
But,  of  course,  they  were  born  to  hanging,  when  they  set 
themselves  so  high. 

''It  be  nawbody,"  said  John,  "  vor  us  to  make  a  fush 
about.  Belong  to  t'other  zide  o'  the  moor  and  come  staling 
shape  to  our  zide.  Red  Jem  Hannaford  his  name.  Thank 
God  for  him  to  be  hanged,  lad;  and  good  cess  to  his  soul 
for  craikin'  zo." 

So  the  sound  of  the  quiet  swinging  led  us  very  modestly, 
as  it  came  and  went  on  the  wind,  loud  and  low  pretty 
regularly,  even  as  far  as  the  foot  of  the  gibbet  where  the 
four  cross-ways  are. 

"  Vamous  job  this  here,"  cried  John,  looking  up  to  be 
sure  of  it,  because  there  were  so  many;  ''here  be  my  own 
nick  on  the  post.  Red  Jem,  too,  and  no  doubt  of  him;  he 
do  hang  so  handsome  like,  and  his  ribs  up  laike  a  horse 
a'most.  God  bless  them  as  discoovered  the  way  to  make  a 
rogue  so  useful.  Good-naight  to  thee,  Jem,  my  lad;  and 
not  break  thy  drames  with  the  craikin'." 

John  Fry  shook  his  bridle-arm  and  smote  upon  Smiler 
merrily,  as  he  jogged  into  the  homeward  track  from  theguid- 
ing  of  the  body.  But  I  was  sorry  for  Red  Jem,  and  wanted 
to  know  more  about  him,  and  whether  he  might  not  have 
avoided  this  miserable  end,  and  what  his  wife  and  children 
thought  of  it,  if,  indeed,  he  had  any.  But  John  would 
talk  no  more  about  it;  and  perhaps  he  was  moved  with 
a  lonesome  feeling,  as  the  creaking  sound  came  after 
us. 

"Hould  thee  tongue,  lad,"  he  said  sharply;  "usbenaigh 
the  Doone-track  now,  two  maile  from  Dunkery  Beacon  hill, 
the  haighest  place  of  Hexmoor.  So  happen  they  be  abroad 
to-naight,  us  must  crawl  on  our  belly-places,  boy." 

I  knew  at  once  what  he  meant — those  bloody  Doones  of 
Bagworthy,  the  awe  of  all  Devon  and  Somerset,  outlaws, 
traitors,  murderers.    My  little  legs  began  to  tremble  to  and 


22  LORKA  BOONE. 

fro  upon  Peggy's  sides,  as  I  heard  the  dead  robber  in  chains 
behind  us,  and  thought  of  the  live  ones  still  in  front. 

**  But,  John,"  I  whispered,  warily,  sliding  close  to  his 
saddle-bow;  ''dear  John,  you  donV think  they  will  see  us 
ill  such  a  fog  as  this?" 

''  Never  God  made  vog  as  could  stop  their  eyesen,"  he 
whispered  in  answer,  fearfully;  ''here  us  be  by  the  hollow 
ground.  Zober,  lad,  goo  zober  now,  if  thee  wish  to  see  thy 
moother." 

For  I  was  inclined,  in  the  manner  of  boys,  to  make  a  run 
of  the  danger,  and  cross  the  Doone- track  at  full  speed;  to 
rush  for  it,  and  be  done  with  it.  But  even  then  1  won- 
dered why  he  talked  of  my  mother  30,  and  said  not  a  word 
of  father. 

We  were  come  to  a  long  deep  "  goyal,"  as  they  call  it  on 
Exmoor,  a  word  whose  fountain  and  origin  I  have  nothing 
to  do  with.  Only  I  know  that  when  little  boys  laughed  at 
me  at  Tiverton  for  talking  about  a  "goyal,"  a  big  boy 
clouted  them  on  the  head,  and  said  that  it  was  in  Homer, 
and  meant  the  hollow  of  the  hand.  And  another  time  a 
Welshman  told  me  that  it  must  be  something  like  the  thing 
they  call  a  "  pant "  in  those  parts.  Still  I  know  what  it 
means  well  enough — to-wit,  a  long  trough  among  wild 
hills,  falling  toward  the  plain  country,  rounded  at  the 
bottom,  perhaps,  and  stiff,  more  than  steep,  at  the  sides  of 
it.  Whether  it  be  straight  or  crooked,  makes  no  difference 
to  it. 

We  rode  very  carefully  down  our  side,  and  through  the 
soft  grass  at  the  bottom,  and  all  the  while  we  listened  as  if 
the  air  was  a  speaking-trumpet.  Then  gladly  we  breasted 
our  nags  to  the  rise,  and  were  coming  to  the  comb  of  it, 
when  I  heard  something,  and  caught  John's  arm,  and  he 
bent  his  hand  to  the  shape  of  his  ear.  It  was  the  sound  of 
horses'  feet  knocking  up  through  splashy  ground,  as  if  the 
bottom  sucked  them.  Then  a  grunting  of  weary  men,  and 
the  lifting  noise  of  stirrups,  and  sometimes  the  clank  of 
iron  mixed  with  the  wheezy  croning  of  leather,  and  the 
blowing  of  hairy  nostrils. 

"  God's  sake.  Jack,  slip  round  her  belly,  and  let  her  go 
where  she  wull." 

As  John  Fry  whispered,  so  I  did,  for  he  was  off  Smiler 
by  this  time;  but  our  two  pads  were  too  fagged  to  go  far, 


THE  WAR-PATH  OF  THE  DOONES.  23 

and  began  to  nose  about  and  crop,  sniffing  more  than  they 
need  have  done.  I  crept  to  John's  side  very  softly,  -with 
the  bridle  on  my  arm. 

"  Let  goo  braidle;  let  goo,  lad.  Plaise  God  they  take 
them  for  forest-ponies,  or  they'll  zend  a  bullet  through 
us.'' 

I  saw  what  he  meant,  and  let  go  the  bridle;  for  now  the 
mist  was  rolling  off,  and  we  were  against  the  sky-line  to 
the  dark  cavalcade  below  us.  John  lay  on  the  ground  by 
a  barrow  of  heather,  where  a  little  gullet  was,  and  I  crept 
to  him,  afraid  of  the  noise  I  made  in  dragging  my  legs 
along,  and  the  creak  of  my  cord  breeches.  John  bleated 
like  a  sheep  to  cover  it — a  sheep  very  cold  and  trembling. 

Then,  just  as  the  foremost  horseman  passed,  scarce 
twenty  yards  below  us,  a  puff  of  wind  came  up  the  glen, 
and  the  fog  rolled  off  before  it.  And  suddenly  a  strong 
red  light,  cast  by  the  cloud- weight  downward,  spread  like 
fingers  over  the  moor-land,  opened  the  alleys  of  darkness, 
and  hung  on  the  steel  of  the  riders. 

'^Dunkery  Beacon,"  whispered  John,  so  close  into  my 
ear  that  I  felt  his  lips  and  teeth  ashake;  '^dursn't  fire  it 
now  excep  to  show  the  Doones  way  home  again,  since  the 
naight  as  they  went  up  and  throwed  the  watchmen  atop 
of  it.     Why,  wutt  be  'bout,  lad?    God's  sake " 

For  I  couid  keep  still  no  longer,  but  wriggled  away  from 
his  arm,  and  along  the  little  gullet,  still  going  flat  on  my 
breast  and  thighs,  until  I  was  under  a  gray  patch  of  stone, 
with  a  fringe  of  dry  fern  round  it;  there  I  lay,  scarce 
twenty  feet  above  the  heads  of  the  riders,  and  I  feared  to 
draw  my  breath,  though  prone  to  do  it  with  wonder. 

For  now  the  beacon  was  rushing  up,  in  a  fiery  storm  to 
heaven,  and  the  form  of  its  flame  came  and  went  in  the 
folds,  and  the  heavy  sky  was  hovering.  All  round  it  was 
hung  with  red,  deep  in  twisted  columns,  and  then  a  giant 
beard  of  fire  streamed  throughout  the  darkness.  The 
sullen  hills  were  flanked  with  light,  and  the  valleys  chined 
with  shadow,  and  all  the  sombrous  moors  between  awoke 
in  furrowed  anger. 

But  most  of  all  the  flinging  fire  leaped  into  the  rocky 
mouth  of  the  glen  below  me,  where  the  horsemen  passed 
in  silence,  scarcely  deigning  to  look  round.  Heavy  men 
and  large  of  stature,  reckless  how  they  bore  their  guns,  or 


24  LORNA  DOONE. 

how  they  sat  their  horses,  with  leathern  jerkins,  and  long 
boots,  and  iron  plates  on  breast  and  head,  plunder  heaped 
behind  their  saddles,  and  flagons  slung  in  front  of  them; 
more  than  thirty  went  along  like  clouds  upon  red  sunset. 
Some  had  carcasses  of  sheep  swinging  with  their  skins  on, 
others  had  deer,  and  one  had  a  child  flung  across  his 
saddle-bow.  Whether  the  child  were  dead  or  alive,  was 
beyond  my  vision,  only  it  hung  head  downward  there,  and 
must  take  the  chance  of  it.  They  had  got  the  child,  a 
very  young  one,  for  the  sake  of  the  dress,  no  doubt,  which 
they  could  not  stop  to  pull  off  from  it;  for  the  dress  shone 
bright,  where  the  fire  struck  it,  as  if  with  gold  and  jewels. 
I  longed  in  my  heart  to  know  most  sadly  what  they  would 
do  with  the  little  thing,  and  whether  they  would  eat  it. 

It  touched  me  so  to  see  that  child,  a  prey  among  those 
vultures,  that  in  my  foolish  rage  and  burning  I  stood  up 
and  shouted  to  them,  leaping  on  a  rock,  and  raving  oat  of 
all  possession.  Two  of  them  turned  round,  and  one  set  his 
carbine  at  me,  but  the  other  said  it  was  but  a  pixie,  and 
bade  him  keep  his  powder.  Little  they  knew,  and  less 
thought  I,  that  the  pixie  then  before  them  would  dance 
their  castle  down  one  day. 

John  Fry,  who  in  the  spring  of  fright  had  brought  him- 
self down  from  Smiler's  side  as  if  he  were  dipped  in  oil, 
now  came  up  to  me,  all  risk  being  over,  cross,  and  stiff, 
and  aching  sorely  from  his  wet  couch  of  heather. 

"Small  thanks  to  thee,  Jan,  as  my  new  waife  hain't  a 
widder.  And  who  be  you  to  zupport  of  her,  and  her  son, 
if  she  have  one?  Zarve  thee  right  if  I  was  to  chuck  thee 
down  into  the  Doone-track.  Zim  thee'll  come  to  un, 
zooner  or  later,  if  this  be  the  zample  of  thee." 

And  that  was  all  he  had  to  say,  instead  of  thanking 
Crod!  For  if  ever  born  man  was  in  a  fright,  and  ready  to 
thank  God  for  anything,  the  name  of  that  man  was 
"John  Fry,''  not  more  than  five  minutes  agone. 

However,  I  answered  nothing  at  all,  except  to  be  ashamed 
of  myself;  and  soon  we  found  Peggy  and  Smiler  in  com- 
pany, well  embarked  on  the  homeward  road,  and  victual- 
ing where  the  grass  was  good.  Right  glad  they  were  to  see 
us  again — not  for  the  pleasure  of  carrying,  but  because  a 
horse  (like  a  woman)  lacks,  and  is  better  without,  self- 
jreliance. 


THE  WAR-PATH  OF  THE  DOONES.  25 

My  father  never  came  to  meet  us  at  either  side  of  the 
telling-house,  neither  at  the  crooked  post,  nor  even  at 
home-linhay,  although  the  dogs  kept  such  a  noise  that  he 
must  have  heard  us.  Home-side  of  the  linhay,  and  under 
the  ashen  hedge-row,  where  father  taught  me  to  catch 
blackbirds,  all  at  once  my  heart  went  down,  and  all  my 
breast  was  hollow.  There  was  not  even  the  lantern  light 
on  the  peg  against  the  cow's  house,  and  nobody  said  ''Hold 
your  noise!"  to  the  dogs,  or  shouted  *'  Here  our  Jack  is!" 

I  looked  at  the  posts  of  the  gate  in  the  dark,  because 
they  were  tall,  like  father,  and  then  at  the  door  of  the 
harness-room,  where  he  used  to  smoke  his  pipe  and  sing. 
Then  I  thought  he  had  guests,  perhaps — people  lost  upon 
the  moors — whom  he  could  not  leave  unkindly,  even  for 
his  son's  sake.  And  yet  about  that  I  was  jealous,  and 
ready  to  be  vexed  with  him,  when  he  should  begin  to 
make  much  of  me.  And  I  felt  in  my  pocket  for  the  new 
pipe  which  I  had  brought  him  from  Tiverton,  and  said  to 
myself,  **He  shall  not  have  it  until  to-morrow  morning." 

Woe  is  me!  I  cannot  tell.  How  I  knew  I  know  not 
now — only  that  I  slunk  away,  without  a  tear,  or  thought 
of  weeping,  hid  me  in  the  saw-pit.  There  the  timber  over- 
head, came  like  streaks  across  me;  and  all  I  wanted  was  to 
lack,  and  none  to  tell  me  anything. 

By-and-by  a  noise  came  down,  as  of  woman's  weeping; 
and  there  my  mother  and  sister  were,  choking  and  holding 
together.  Although  they  were  my  dearest  loves,  I  could 
not  bear  to  look  at  them,  until  they  seemed  to  want  my 
help,  and  put  their  hands  before  their  eyes. 


26  LORNA  DOONK 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  VERY   RASH   VISIT. 

My  dear  father  had  been  killed  by  the  Doones  of  Bag- 
worthy,  while  riding  home  from  Porlock  market,  on  the 
Saturday  evening.  With  him  were  six  brother  farmers, 
all  of  them  very  sober;  for  father  would  have  no  company 
with  any  man  who  went  beyond  half  a  gallon  of  beer,  or  a 
single  gallon  of  cider.  The  robbers  had  no  grudge  against 
him;  for  he  had  never  flouted  them,  neither  made  over- 
much of  outcry  because  they  robbed  other  people.  For  he 
was  a  man  of  such  strict  honesty,  and  due  parish  feeling, 
that  he  knew  it  to  be  every  man's  own  business  to  defend 
himself  and  his  goods,  unless  he  belonged  to  our  parish, 
and  then  we  must  look  after  him. 

These  seven  good  farmers  were  jogging  along,  helping 
one  another  in  the  troubles  of  the  road,  and  singing  goodly 
hymns  and  songs  to  keep  their  courage  moving,  when  sud- 
denly a  horseman  stopped  in  the  starlight  full  across  tliem. 

By  dress  and  arms  they  knew  him  well,  and  by  his  size 
and  stature,  shown  against  the  glimmer  of  the  evening 
star;  and  though  he  seemed  one  man  to  seven,  it  was,  in 
truth,  one  man  to  one.  Of  the  six  who  had  been  singing 
songs  and  psalms  about  the  power  of  God,  and  their  own 
regeneration — such  psalms  as  went  the  round,  in  those 
days,  of  the  public-houses — there  was  not  one  Ijut  pulled 
out  his  money,  and  sung  small-beer  to  the  Doone, 

But  father  had  been  used  to  think  that  any  man  wlio 
was  comfortable  inside  his  own  coat  and  waistcoat  deserved 
to  have  no  other  set,  unless  he  would  strike  a  blow  for 
them.  And  so,  while  his  gossips  dofted  their  hats,  and 
shook  with  what  was  left  of  them,  he  set  his  staff  above 
his  head,  and  rode  at  the  Doone  robber.  With  a  trick  of 
his  horse,  the  wild  man  escaped  the  sudden  onset,  although 
it  must  have  amazed  him  sadly  that  any  durst  resist  him. 


A  VERY  RASE  VISIT.  27 

Then,  when  Smiler  was  carried  away  with  the  dash  and 
weight  of  my  father  (not  being  brought  up  to  battle,  nor 
used  to  turn,  save  in  the  plow  harness),  the  outlaw 
whistled  upon  his  thumb,  and  plundered  the  rest  of  the 
yoemen.  But  father,  drav/ing  at  Smiler's  head,  to  try  to 
come  back  and  help  them,  was  in  the  midst  of  a  dozen 
men  who  seemed  to  come  out  of  a  turf-rick,  some  on  horse 
and  some  afoot.  Nevertheless,  he  smote  lustily,  so  far  as 
he  could  see;  and  being  of  great  size  and  strength,  and  his 
blood  well  up,  they  had  no  easy  job  with  him.  With  the 
play  of  his  wrist  he  cracked  three  or  four  crowns,  being 
always  famous  at  single-stick;  until  the  rest  drew  their 
horses  away,  and  he  thought  that  he  was  master,  and 
would  tell  his  wife  about  it. 

But  a  man  beyond  the  range  of  staff  was  crouching  by 
the  peat-stack,  with  a  long  gun  set  to  his  shoulder,  and  he 
got  poor  father  against  the  sky,  and  I  cannot  tell  the  rest 
of  it.  Only  they  knew  that  Smiler  came  home  with  blood 
upon  his  withers,  and  father  was  found  in  the  morning 
dead  on  the  moor,  with  his  ivy-twisted  cudgel  lying  broken 
under  him.  Now,  whether  tliis  were  an  honest  fight,  God 
judge  betwixt  the  Doones  and  me. 

It  wjis  more  of  woe  than  wonder,  being  such  days  of 
violence,  that  mother  knew  herself  a  widow,  and  her 
children  fatherless.  Of  children  there  were  only  three, 
none  of  us  fit  to  be  useful  yet,  only  to  comfort  mother,  by 
making  her  to  work  for  us.  I,  John  Ridd,  was  the  eldest, 
and  felt  it  a  heavy  thing  on  me;  next  came  sister  Annie, 
with  about  two  years  between  us;  and  then  the  little  Eliza. 

Now,  before  I  got  home  and  found  my  sad  loss — and  no 
boy  ever  loved  his  father  better  than  I  loved  mine — mother 
had  done  a  most  wondrous  thing,  which  made  all  the 
noigjjbors  say  that  she  must  be  mad,  at  least.  Upon  the 
^fonday  morning,  while  her  husband  lay  unburied,  she 
cast  a  white  hood  over  her  hair,  and  gathered  a  black 
cloak  around  her,  and,  taking  counsel  of  no  one,  set  off  on 
foot  for  the  Doone-gate. 

In  the  early  afternoon  she  came  to  the  hollow  and  barren 
entrance,  where,  in  truth,  there  was  no  gate,  only  dark- 
ness to  go  through.  If  I  get  on  with  this  story,  I  shall 
have  to  tell  it  by-and-by,  as  I  saw  it  afterward,  and  will 
not  dwell  there  now.     Enough  that  no  gun  was  fired  at 


28  LORNA  LOONE, 

her,  only  her  eyes  were  covered  over,  and  somebody  led 
her  by  the  hand,  without  any  wish  to  hurt  her. 

A  very  rough  and  headstrong  road  was  all  that  she  re- 
membered, for  she  could  not  think  as  she  wished  to  do, 
with  the  cold  iron  pushed  against  her.  At  the  end  of  this 
road  they  delivered  her  eyes,  and  she  could  scarce  believe 
them. 

For  she  stood  at  the  head  of  a  deep  green  valley,  carved 
from  out  the  mountains  in  a  perfect  oval,  with  a  fence  of 
sheer  rock  standing  round  it,  eighty  feet  or  a  hundred 
high,  from  whose  brink  black  wooded  hills  swept  up  to  the 
sky-line.  By  her  side  a  little  river  glided  out  from  under- 
ground with  a  soft  dark  babble,  unawares  of  daylight; 
then  growing  brighter,  lapsed  away,  and  fell  into  the 
valley.  There,  as  it  ran  down  the  meadows,  alders  stood 
on  either  marge,  and  grass  was  blading  out  upon  it,  and 
yellow  tufts  of  rushes  gathered,  looking  at  the  hurry.  But 
further  down,  on  either  bank,  were  covered  houses,  built 
of  stone,  square  and  roughly  cornered,  set  as  if  the  brook 
were  meant  to  be  the  street  between  them.  Only  one  room 
high  they  were,  and  not  placed  opposite  each  other,  but  in 
and  out  as  skittles  are;  only  that  the  first  of  all,  which 
proved  to  be  the  captain's,  was  a  sort  of  double  house,  or 
rather  two  houses  joined  together  by  a  plank- bridge  over 
the  river. 

Fourteen  cots  my  mother  counted,  all  very  much  of  a 
pattern,  and  nothing  to  choose  between  them,  unless  it 
were  the  captain's.  Deep  in  the  quiet  valley  there,  away 
from  noise,  and  violence,  and  brawl,  save  that  of  the  rivu- 
let, any  man  would  have  deemed  them  homes  of  simple 
mind  and  innocence.  Yet  not  a  single  house  stood  there 
but  was  the  home  of  murder. 

Two  men  led  my  mother  down  a  steep  and  gliddery 
stairway,  like  the  ladder  of  a  haymow,  and  thence  from 
the  break  of  the  falling  water  as  far  as  the  house  of  the 
captain.  And  there  at  the  door  they  left  her  trembling, 
strung  as  she  was,  to  speak  her  mind. 

*'Now,  after  all,  what  right  had  she,  a  common  farmer's 
widow,  to  take  it  amiss  that  men  of  birth  thought  fit  to 
kill  her  husband?  And  the  Doones  were  of  very  high 
birth,  as  all  we  clods  of  Exmoor  knew;  and  we  had  enough 
of  good  teaching  now — let  any  man  say  the  contrary — to 


A  VERY  RASH  VISIT.  29 

feel  that  all  we  had  belonged  of  right  to  those  above  us. 
Therefore  my  mother  was  half  ashamed  that  she  could  not 
help  complaining. 

But  after  a  little  while,  as  she  said,  remembrance  of  her 
husband  came,  and  the  way  he  used  to  stand  by  her  side 
and  put  his  strong  arm  round  her,  and  how  he  liked  his 
bacon  fried,  and  praised  her  kindly  for  it — and  so  the  tears 
were  in  her  eyes,  and  nothing  should  gainsay  them. 

A  tall  old  man.  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  came  out  with  a  bill 
hook  in  his  hand,  and  hedger's  gloves  going  up  his  arms, 
as  if  he  were  no  better  than  a  laborer  at  ditch-work.  Only 
in  his  mouth  and  eyes,  his  gait,  and  most  of  all  his  voice, 
even  a  child  could  know  and  feel,  that  here  was  no  ditch- 
laborer.  Good  cause  he  has  found  since  then,  perhaps,  to 
wish  that  he  had  been  one. 

With  his  white  locks  moving  upon  his  coat,  he  stopped 
and  looked  down  at  my  mother,  and  she  could  not  help 
herself  but  courtesy  under  the  fixed  black  gazing. 

**Good  woman,  you  arc  none  of  us.  Who  has  brought 
you  hither?  Young  men  must  be  young — but  I  have  had 
too  much  of  this  work.'* 

And  he  scowled  at  my  mother  for  her  comeliness;  and 
yet  looked  under  his  eyelids  as  if  he  liked  her  for  it.  But 
as  for  her,  in  the  depth  of  love-grief,  it  struck  scorn  upon 
her  womanhood;  and  in  the  flash  she  spoke. 

*'  What  you  mean,  I  know  not.  Traitors!  cut-throats! 
cowards!  I  am  here  to  ask  for  my  husband."  She  could 
not  say  any  more,  because  her  heart  was  now  too  much  for 
her,  coming  hard  in  her  throat  and  mouth;  but  she  opened 
up  her  eyes  at  him. 

**  Madam,''  said  Sir  Ensor  Doone — being  born  a  gentle- 
man, although  a  very  bad  one — '*  I  crave  pardon  of  you. 
My  eyes  are  old,  or  I  might  have  known.  Now,  if  we  have 
your  husband  prisoner,  he  shall  go  free  without  ransom, 
because  I  have  insulted  you." 

''  Sir,"  said  my  mother,  being  suddenly  taken  away  with 
sorrow  because  of  his  gracious  manner,  *'  please  to  let  me 
cry  a  bit." 

He  stood  away,  and  seemed  to  know  that  women  want 
no  help  for  that.  And  by  the  way  she  cried  he  knew  that 
tliey  had  killed  her  husband.  Then,  having  felt  of  grief 
himself,  he  was  not  angry  with  her,  but  left  her  to  begin 
again. 


30  LORNA  DOONE, 

''Loath  would  I  be,"  said  mother,  sobbing  with  her  new 
red  handkerchief,  and  looking  at  the  pattern  of  it, ''  loath 
indeed.  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  to  accuse  any  one  unfairly..  But 
I  have  lost  the  very  best  husband  God  ever  gave  to  a 
woman;  and  I  knew  him  when  he  was  to  your  belt,  and  I 
not  up  to  your  knee,  sir;  and  never  an  unkind  word  lie 
spoke,  nor  stopped  me  short  in  speaking.  All  the  herbs  he 
left  to  me,  and  all  the  bacon-curing,  and  when  it  was  best 
to  kill  a  pig,  and  how  to  treat  the  maidens.  Not  that  I 
would  ever  wish — oh,  John,  it  seems  so  strange  to  me,  and 
last  week  you  were  everything!" 

Here  mother  burst  out  crying  again,  not  loudly,  but 
turning  quietly,  because  she  knew  that  no  one  now  would 
ever  care  to  wipe  the  tears.  And  fifty  or  a  hundred  things, 
of  weekly  and  daily  happening,  came  across  my  mother,  so 
that  her  spirit  fell  like  slackening  lime. 

'*  This  matter  must  be  seen  to;  it  shall  be  seen  to  at 
once,"  the  old  man  answered,  moved  a  little  in  snite  of  all 
his  knowledge. 

"  Madam,  if  any  wrong  has  been  done,  trust  the  honor 
of  a  Doone,  I  will  redress  it  to  my  utmost.  Come  inside 
and  rest  yourself,  while  I  ask  about  it.  What  was  your 
good  husband's  name,  and  when  and  where  fell  this 
mishap?" 

"  Deary  me,"  said  mother,  as  he  set  a  chair  for  her  very 
polite,  but  she  would  not  sit  upon  it;  *'  Saturday  morning 
I  was  a  wife,  sir;  and  Saturday  night  I  was  a  widow,  and 
my  children  fatherless.  My  husband's  name  was  'John 
Ridd,^  sir,  as  everybody  knows,  and  there  was  not  a  finer 
or  better  man  in  Somerset  or  Devon.  He  was  coming 
home  from  Porlock  market,  and  a  new  gown  for  me  on 
the  crupper,  and  a  shell  to  put  my  hair  up — oh,  John, 
how  good  you  were  to  me  I" 

Of  that  she  began  to  think  again,  and  not  to  believe  her 
sorrow,  except  as  a  dream  from  the  evil  one,  because  it  was 
too  bad  upon  her,  and  perhaps  she  would  awake  in  a  minute, 
and  her  husband  would  have  the  laugh  of  her.  And  so 
she  wiped  her  eyes  and  smiled,  and  looked  for  something. 

"  Madam,  this  is  a  serious  thing,"  Sir  Ensor  Doone  said, 
graciously,  and  showing  grave  concern;  *'my  boys  are  a 
little  wild,  I  know.  And  yet  I  cannot  think  that  they 
would  willingly  harm  any  one.     And  yet — and  yet,  you  do 


A  VERT  RASH  VISIT.  31 

look  wronged.  Send  Counselor  to  me,"  he  shouted,  from 
the  door  of  his  house;  and  down  the  valley  went  the  call, 
**send  Counselor  to  Captain." 

Counselor  Doone  came  in  ere  yet  my  mother  was  herself 
again,  and  if  any  sight  could  astonish  her  when  all  sense  of 
right  and  wrong  was  gone  astray  with  the  force  of  things,  it 
was  the  sight  of  the  Counselor.  A  square-built  man  of 
enormous  strength,  but  a  foot  below  the  Doone  stature 
(which  I  shall  describe  hereafter),  he  carried  a  long  gray 
beard  descending  to  the  leather  of  his  belt.  Great  eye- 
brows overhung  his  face,  like  ivy  on  a  pollard  oak,  and 
under  them  two  large  brown  eyes,  as  of  an  owl  when 
muting.  And  he  had  a  power  of  hiding  his  eyes,  or  show- 
ing them  bright,  like  a  blazing  fire.  He  stood  there  with 
his  beaver  off,  and  mother  tried  to  look  at  him,  but  he 
seemed  not  to  descry  her. 

"  Counselor,"  said  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  standing  back  in 
his  height  from  him,  'Miere  is  a  lady  of  good  repute " 

*'  Oh,  no,  sir;  only  a  woman." 

*' Allow  me,  madam,  by  your  good  leave.  Here  is  a 
lady,  Counselor,  of  great  repute  in  this  part  of  the  country, 
who  charges  the  Doones  with  having  unjustly  slain  her 
husband " 

"Murdered  him!  murdered  him!"  cried  my  mother; 
"  if  ever  there  was  a  murder.  Oh,  sir!  oh,  sir!  you 
know  it." 

''  The  perfect  rights  and  truth  of  the  case  is  all  I  wish 
to  know,"  said  the  old  man,  very  loftily;  *'and  justice 
shall  be  done,  madam." 

"Oh,  I  pray  you — pray  you,  sirs,  make  no  matter  of 
business  of  it.     God  from  heaven,  look  on  me!" 

"  Put  the  case,"  said  the  Counselor. 

"  The  case  is  this,"  replied  Sir  Ensor,  holding  one  hand 
up  to  mother:  "This  lady's  worthy  husband  was  slain,  it 
seems,  upon  his  return  from  the  market  at  Porlock,  no 
longer  ago  than  last  Saturday  night.  Madam,  amend  me 
if  1  am  wrong." 

"No  longer,  indeed,  indeed,  sir.  Sometimes  it  seems  a 
twelvemonth,  and  sometimes  it  seems  an  hour." 

"  Cite  his  name,"  said  the  Counselor,  with  his  eyes  still 
rolling  inward. 

"'Master  John  Ridd,'  as  I  understand.     Counselor,  we 


32  LORKA  DOONE. 

have  heard  of  him  often;  a  worthy  man  and  a  peaceful 
one,  who  meddled  not  with  our  duties.  Now,  if  any  of 
our  boys  have  been  rough,  they  shall  answer  it  dearly. 
And  yet  I  can  scarce  believe  it.  For  the  folk  about  these 
parts  are  apt  to  misconceive  of  our  sufferings,  and  to  have 
no  feeling  for  us.  Counselor,  you  are  our  record,  and  very 
stern  against  us;  tell  us  how  this  matter  was." 

**0h.  Counselor!"  my  mother  cried;  **Sir  Counselor, 
you  will  be  fair;  I  see  it  in  your  countenance.  Only  tell 
me  who  it  was,  and  set  me  face  to  face  with  him;  and  I 
will  bless  you,  sir,  and  God  shall  bless  you,  and  my 
children.  ^^ 

The  square  man  with  the  long  gray  beard,  quite  unmoved 
by  anything,  drew  back  to  the  door  and  spoke,  and  his 
voice  was  like  a  fall  of  stones  in  the  bottom  of  a  mine. 

''Few  words  will  be  enow  for  this.  Four  or  five  of  our 
best-behaved  and  most  peaceful  gentlemen  went  to  the 
little  market  at  Porlock  with  a  lump  of  money.  They 
bought  some  household  stores  and  comforts  at  a  very  high 
price,  and  pricked  upon  the  homeward  road,  away  from 
vulgar  revelers.  When  they  drew  bridle  to  rest  their 
horses,  in  the  shelter  of  a  peat-rick,  the  night  being  dark 
and  sudden,  a  robber  of  great  size  and  strength  rode  into 
the  midst  of  them,  thinking  to  kill  or  terrify.  His  arro- 
gance and  hardihood  at  the  first  amazed  them,  but  they 
would  not  give  up  without  a  blow  goods  which  were  on 
trust  with  them.  He  had  smitten  three  of  them  senseless, 
for  the  power  of  his  arm  was  terrible;  whereupon  the  last 
man  tried  to  ward  his  blow  with  a  pistol.  Carver,  sir,  it 
was,  our  brave  and  noble  Carver,  who  saved  the  lives  of 
his  brethren  and  his  own;  and  glad  enow  they  were  to 
escape.  Notwithstanding,  we  hoped  it  might  be  only  a 
flesh-wound,  and  not  to  speed  him  in  his  sins." 

As  this  atrocious  tale  of  lies  turned  up  joint  by  joint  be- 
fore her  like  a  ''devil's  coach-horse,"*  mother  was  too 
much  amazed  to  do  any  more  than  look  at  him,  as  if  the 
earth  must  open.  But  the  only  thing  that  opened  was  the 
great  brown  eyes  of  the  Counselor,  which  rested  on  my 
mother's  face  with  a  dew  of  sorrow  as  he  spoke  of  sins. 

*  The  cock-tailed  beetle  has  earned  this  name  in  the  West  of 
England. 


A  VERT  RASH  VISIT.  S3 

She,  unable  to  bear  them,  turned  suddenly  on  Sir  Ensor, 
and  caught  (as  she  fancied)  a  smile  on  his  lips,  and  a  sense 
of  quiet  enjoyment. 

**  All  the  Doones  are  gentlemen, ''  answered  the  old  man, 
gravely,  and  looking  as  if  he  had  never  smiled  since  he  was 
a  baby.  "  We  are  always  glad  to  explain,  madam,  any 
mistake  which  the  rustic  people  may  fall  upon  about  us; 
and  we  wish  you  clearly  to  conceive  that  we  do  not  charge 
your  poor  husband  with  any  set  purpose  of  robbery,  neither 
will  we  bring  suit  for  any  attainder  of  his  property.  Is  it 
not  so.  Counselor?" 

*'  Without  doubt  his  land  is  attainted;  unless  in  mercy 
you  forbear,  sir." 

*' Counselor,  we  will  forbear.  Madam,  we  will  forgive 
him.  Like  enough  he  knew  not  right  from  wrong  at  that 
time  of  night.  The  waters  are  strong  at  Porlock,  and 
even  an  honest  man  may  use  his  staff  unjustly  in  this 
unchartered  age  of  violence  and  rapine." 

The  Doones  to  talk  of  rapine!  Mother's  head  went 
round  so  that  she  courtesied  to  them  both,  scarcely  know- 
ing where  she  was,  but  calling  to  mind  her  manners.  All 
the  time  she  felt  a  warmth,  as  if  the  right  was  with  her, 
and  yet  she  could  not  see  the  way  to  spread  it  out  before 
them.  With  that  she  dried  her  tears  in  haste,  and  went 
into  the  cold  air,  for  fear  of  speaking  mischief. 

But  when  she  was  on  the  homeward  road,  and  the  senti- 
nels had  charge  of  her,  blinding  her  eyes,  as  if  she  were 
not  blind  enough  with  weeping,  some  one  came  in  haste 
behind  her  and  thrust  a  heavy  leathern  bag  into  the  limp 
weight  of  her  hand. 

''Captain  sends  you  this,"  he  whispered;  ''take  it  to 
the  little  ones." 

But  mother  let  it  fall  in  a  heap,  as  if  it  had  been  a  blind 
worm ;  and  then  for  the  first  time  crouched  before  God, 
tiiat  even  the  Doones  should  pity  her. 


a4  LORNA  DOONE, 


CHAPTER  V. 

AK   ILLEGAL  SETTLEMENT. 

Good  folk  who  dwell  in  a  lawful  land,  if  any  such  ther^ 
be,  may,  for  want  of  exploration,  judge  our  neighborhood 
harshly,  unless  the  whole  truth  is  set  before  them.  In  bar 
of  such  prejudice,  many  of  us  ask  leave  to  explain  how  and 
why  it  was  the  robbers  came  to  that  head  in  the  midst 
of  us.  We  would  rather  not  have  had  it  so,  God  knows  as 
well  as  any  body;  but  it  grew  upon  us  gently,  in  the  fol- 
lowing manner.  Only  let  all  who  read  observe  that  here  I 
enter  many  things  which  came  to  my  knowledge  in  later 
years. 

In  or  about  ^the  year  of  our  Lord  1640,  when  all  the 
troubles  of  England  were  swelling  to  an  outburst,  great 
estates  in  the  north  country  were  suddenly  confiscated, 
through  some  feud  of  families  and  strong  influence  at 
Court,  and  the  owners  were  turned  upon  the  world,  and 
might  think  themselves  lucky  to  save  their  necks.  These 
estates  were  inco-heirship,  joint-tenantcy  I  think  they  called 
it,  although  I  know  not  the  meaning,  only  so  that  if  either 
tenant  died,  the  other  living,  all  would  come  to  the  live 
one  in  spite  of  any  tes^ame*"t. 

One  of  the  joint  owners  was  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  a  gentle- 
man of  brisk  intellect;  and  the  other  owner  was  his  cousin, 
the  Earl  of  Lome  and  Dykemont. 

Lord  Lome  was  some  years  the  elder  of  his  cousin  Ensor 
Doone,  and  was  making  suit  to  gain  severance  of  the  cum- 
bersome joint-tenancy  by  any  fair  apportionment,  when 
suddenly  this  blow  fell  on  them  by  wiles  and  woman's  med- 
dling; and  instead  of  dividing  the  land,  they  were  divided 
from  it. 

The  nobleman  was  still  well-to-do,  though  crippled  in 
his  expenditure;  but  as  for  the  cousin,  he  was  left  a  beggar, 
with  many  to  beg  from  him.     He  thought  that  the  other 


AN  ILLEGAL  SETTLEMENT.  35 

had  wronged  him,  and  that  all  the  trouble  of  law  befell 
through  his  unjust  petition.  Many  friends  advised  him  to 
make  interest  at  Court;  for,  having  done  no  harm  what- 
ever, and  being  a  good  Catholic,  which  Lord  Lome  was 
not,  he  would  be  sure  to  find  hearing  there,  and  probably 
some  favor.  But  he,  like  a  very  hot-brained  man,  although 
he  had  long  been  married  to  the  daughter  of  his  cousin 
(whom  he  liked  none  the  more  for  that),  would  have  noth- 
ing to  say  to  any  attempt  at  making  a  patch  of  it,  but  drove 
away  with  his  wife  and  sons,  and  the  relics  of  his  money, 
swearing  hard  at  everybody.  In  this  he  may  have  been 
quite  wrong;  probably,  perhaps  he  was  so;  but  I  am  not  con- 
vinced at  all  but  what  most  of  us  would  have  done  the 
same. 

Some  say  that,  in  the  bitterness  of  that  wrong  and  out- 
rage, he  slew  a  gentleman  of  the  Court,  whom  he  supposed 
to  have  borne  a  hand  in  the  plundering  of  his  fortunes. 
Others  say  that  he  bearded  King  Charles  the  First  himself, 
in  a  manner  beyond  forgiveness.  One  thing,  at  any  rate, 
is  sure — Sir  Ensor  was  attainted,  and  made  a  felon  outlaw, 
through  some  violent  deed  ensuing  ujDon  his  dispossession. 

He  had  searched  in  many  quarters  for  somebody  to  help 
him,  and  with  good  warrant  for  hoping  it,  inasmuch  as  he, 
in  his  lucky  days,  had  been  open-handed  and  cousinly  to  all 
who  begged  advice  of  him.  But  now  all  these  provided 
him  with  plenty  of  good  advice  indeed,  and  great  assurance 
of  feeling,  but  not  a  movement  of  leg,  or  lip,  or  purse- 
stri»g  in  his  favor.  All  good  people  of  either  persuasion, 
royalty  or  commonalty,  knowing  his  kitchen  range  to  be 
cold,  no  longer  would  play  turnspit.  And  this,  i^  may  be, 
seared  his  heart  more  than  the  loss  of  land  and  fame. 

In  great  despair  at  last,  he  resolved  to  settle  in  some 
outlandlish  part,  where  none  could  be  found  to  know  him; 
and  so,  in  an  evil  day  for  us,  he  came  to  the  West  of  Eng- 
land. Not  that  our  part  of  the  world  is  at  all  outlandish, 
accortding  to  my  view  of  it  (for  I  never  found  a  better  one), 
but  that  it  wa-s  known  to  be  rugged,  and  large,  and  deso- 
late. And  here,  when  he  had  discovered  a  place  which 
seemed  almost  to  be  made  for  him,  so  withdrawn,  so  self- 
defended  and  uneasy  of  access,  some  of  the  country  folk 
around  brought  him  little  offerings — a  side  of  bacon,  a 
ieg  of   cider,  hung  mutton,  or  a  brisket  of  venison;  so 


36  LORNA  BOONE, 

that  for  a  little  while  he  was  very  honest.  But  when  the 
newness  of  his  coming  began  to  wear  away,  and  our  good 
folk  were  apt  to  think  that  even  a  gentleman  ought  to 
work  or  pay  other  men  for  doing  it,  and  many  farmers 
were  grown  weary  of  manners  without  discourse  to  them, 
and  all  cried  out  to  one  another  how  unfair  it  was  that, 
owning  such  a  fertile  valley,  young  men  would  not  spade 
or  plow  by  reason  of  noble  lineage — then  the  young  Doones 
growing  up  took  things  they  would  not  ask  for. 

And  here  let  me,  as  a  solid  man,  owner  of  five  hundred 
acres  (whether  fenced  or  otherwise,  and  that  is  my  own 
business),  church-warden  also  of  this  parish  (until  I  go  to 
the  church-yard),  and  proud  to  be  called  the  parson's 
friend — for  a  better  man  I  never  knew  with  tobacco  and 
strong  waters,  nor  one  who  could  read  the  lessons  so  well, 
and  he  has  been  at  Blundell's  too — once  for  all  let  me 
declare,  that  I  am  a  thorough-going  Church-and-State 
man,  and  Royalist,  without  any  mistake  about  it.  And 
this  I  lay  down,  because  some  people,  judging  a  sau'sage  by 
the  skin,  may  take  in  evil  part  my  little  glosses  of  style 
and  glibness,  and  the  mottled  nature  of  my  remarks,  and 
cracks  now  and  then  on  the  frying-pan.  I  assure  them  I 
am  good  inside,  and  not  a  bit  of  rue  in  me;  only  queer 
knots,  as  of  majoram,  and  a  stupid  manner  of  bursting. 

There  was  not  more  than  a  dozen  of  them,  counting  a 
few  retainers  who  still  held  by  Sir  Ensor;  but  soon  they 
grew  and  multiplied  in  a  manner  surprising  to  think  of. 
Whether  it  was  the  venison,  which  we  call  a  strengthening 
victual,  or  whether  it  was  the  Exmoor  mutton,  or  the  keen 
soft  air  of  the  moor-lands,  anyhow  the  Doones  increased 
much  faster  than  their  honesty.  At  first  they  had 
brought  some  ladies  with  them,  of  good  repute  with 
charity;  and  then,  as  time  went  on,  they  added  to  their 
stock  by  carrying.  They  carried  off  many  good  farmers' 
daughters,  who  were  sadly  displeased  at  first;  but  took  to 
them  kindly  after  a  while,  and  made  a  new  home  in  their 
babies.  For  women,  as  it  seems  to  me,  like  strong  men  more 
than  weak  ones,  feeling  that  they  need  some  staunchness, 
something  to  hold  fast  by. 

And  of  all  the  men  in  our  country,  although  we  are  of 
a  thickset  breed,  you  scarce  could  find  one  in  three- 
score fit  to  be  placed  among  the  Doones,  without  looking 


AN  ILLEGAL  SETTLEMENT,  3? 

no  more  than  a  tailor.  Like  enough,  we  could  meet  them, 
man  for  man  (if  we  chose  all  around  the  crown  and  the 
skirts  of  Exmoor),  and  show  them  what  a  cross-buttock 
means,  because  we  are  so  stuggy;  but  in  regard  of  stature, 
comeliness,  and  bearing,  no  woman  would  look  twice  at 
us.  Xot  but  what  I  myself,  John  Ridd,  and  one  or  two  I 
know  of — but  it  becomes  me  best  not  to  talk  of  that, 
although  my  hair  is  gray. 

Perhaps  their  den  might  well  have  been  stormed,  and 
themselves  driven  out  of  the  forest,  if  honest  people  had 
only  agreed  to  begin  with  them  at  once  when  first  they 
took  to  plundering.  But  having  respect  for  their  good 
birth,  and  pity  for  their  misfortunes,  and  perhaps  a  little 
admiration  at  the  justice  of  God,  that  robbed  men  now 
were  robbers,  the  squires,  and  farmers,  and  shepherds,  at 
first  did  nothing  more  than  grumble  gently,  or  even  make^ 
a  laugh  of  it,  each  in  the  case  of  others.  After  a  while 
they  found  the  matter  gone  too  far  for  laughter,  as  vio- 
lence and  deadly  outrage  stained  the  hand  of  robbery, 
until  every  woman  clutched  her  child,  and  every  man 
turned  pale  at  the  very  name  of  **Doone.'*  For  the  sons 
and  grandsons  of  Sir  Ensor  grew  up  in  foul  liberty,  and 
haughtiness,  and  hatred,  to  utter  scorn  of  God  and  man, 
and  brutality  toward  dumb  animals.  There  was  only  ono 
good  thing  about  them,  if,  indeed,  it  were  good,  to-wit, 
their  faith  to  one  another,  and  truth  to  their  wild  aerie. 
But  this  only  made  them  feared  the  more,  so  certain  was 
the  revenge  they  wreaked  upon  any  who  dared  to  strike 
a  Doone.  One  night,  some  ten  years  ere  I  was  born,  when 
they  were  sacking  a  rich  man's  house  not  very  far  from 
Minehead,  a  shot  was  fired  at  them  in  the  dark,  of  which 
they  took  little  notice,  and  only  one  of  them  knew  that 
any  harm  was  done.  But  when  they  were  well  on  the 
homeward  road,  not  having  slain  either  man  or  woman,  or 
even  burned  a  house  down,  one  of  their  number  fell  from 
his  saddle,  and  died  without  so  much  as  a  groan.  The 
youth  had  been  struck,  but  would  not  complain,  and  per- 
haps took  little  heed  of  the  wound,  while  he  was  bleeding 
inwardly.  His  brothers  and  cousins  laid  him  softly  on  a 
bank  of  whortleberries,  and  just  rode  back  to  the  lonely 
hamlet  where  he  had  taken  his  death-wound.     No  man 


38  LORNA  DOONE, 

nor  woman  was  left  in  the  morning,  nor  house  for  any  to 
dwell  in,  only  a  child  with  its  reason  gone.* 

This  affair  made  prudent  people  find  more  reasons  to  let 
them  alone  than  to  meddle  with  them;  and  now  they  had 
so  intrenched  themselves,  and  waxed  so  strong  in  number, 
that  nothing  less  than  a  troop  of  soldiers  could  wisely 
enter  their  premises;  and  even  so  it  might  turn  out  ill,  as 
perchance  we  shall  see  by-and-by. 

For  not  to  mention  the  strength  of  the  place,  which  I 
shall  describe  in  its  proper  order  when  I  come  to  visit  it, 
there  was  not  one  among  them  but  was  a  mighty  man, 
straight  and  tall,  and  wide,  and  fit  to  lift  four  hundred- 
weight. If  son  or  grandson  of  old  Doone,  or  one  of  the 
northern  retainers,  failed  at  the  age  of  twenty,  while 
standing  on  his  naked  feet,  to  touch  with  his  forehead  the 
lintel  of  Sir  Ensor's  door,  and  to  fill  the  door-frame  with 
his  shoulders  from  side-post  even  to  side-post,  he  was  led 
away  to  the  narrow  pass  which  made  their  valley  so  des- 
perate, and  thrust  from  the  crown  with  ignominy,  to  get 
his  own  living  honestly.  Now,  the  measure  of  that  door- 
way is,  or  rather  was,  I  ought  to  say,  six  feet  and  one  inch 
lengthwise,  and  two  feet  all  but  two  inches  taken  cross- 
ways  in  the  clear.  Yet  I  not  only  have  heard  but  know, 
being  so  closely  mixed  with  them,  that  no  descendant  of 
old  Sir  Ensor,  neither  relative  of  his  (except,  indeed,  the 
Counselor,  who  was  kept  by  them  for  his  wisdom),  and  no 
more  than  two  of  their  following,  ever  failed  of  that  test, 
and  relapsed  to  the  difficult  ways  of  honesty. 

Not  that  I  think  anything  great  of  a  standard  the  like 
of  that;  for  if  they  had  set  me  in  that  door-frame  at  the 
age  of  twenty,  it  is  like  enough  that  I  should  have  walked 
away  with  it  on  my  shoulders,  though  I  was  not  come  to 
my  full  strength  then;  only  I  am  speaking  now  of  the 
average  size  of  our  neighborhood,  and  the  Doones  were  far 
beyond  that.  Moreover,  they  were  taught  to  shoot  with  a 
heavy  carbine  so  delicately  and  wisely,  that  even  a  boy . 
could  pass  a  ball  through  a  rabbit's  head  at  the  distance  of  - 
fourscore  yards.  Some  people  may  think  naught  of  this, 
being  in  practice  with  longer  shots  from  the  tongue  than 
from  the  shoulder;  nevertheless,  to  do  as  above  is,  to  my 

*  This  vile  deed  was  done,  beyond  all  doubt. 


AN  ILLEGAL  SETTLEMENT.  39 

ignorance,  very  good  work,  if  you  can  be  sure  to  do  it. 
Not  one  word  do  1  believe  of  Robin  Hood  splitting  peeled 
wands  at  seven-score  yards,  and  such  like.  Whoever  wrote 
8uch  stories  knew  not  how  slippery  a  peeled  wand  is,  even 
if  one  could  hit  it,  and  how  it  gives  to  the  onset.  Now 
let  him  stick  one  in  the  ground,  and  take  his  bow  and 
arrow  at  it,  ten  yards  away,  or  even  five. 

Now,  after  all  this  which  I  have  written,  and  all  the  rest 
which  a  reader  will  see,  being  quicker  of  mind  than  I  am 
(who  leave  more  than  half  behind  me,  like  a  man  sowing 
wheat,  with  his  dinner  laid  in  the  ditch  too  near  his  dog), 
it  is  much  but  what  you  will  understand  the  Doones  far 
better  than  I  did,  or  do  even  to  this  moment;  and  there- 
fore none  will  doubt  when  I  tell  them  that  our  good  justi- 
ciaries feared  to  make  an  ado,  or  hold  any  public  inquiry 
about  my  dear  father's  death.  They  would  all  have  had  to 
ride  home  that  night,  and  who  could  say  what  might  betide 
them?  Least  said  soonest  mended,  because  less  chance  of 
breaking. 

So  we  buried  him  quietly — all  except  my  mother,  indeed, 
for  she  could  not  keep  silence — in  the  sloping  little  church- 
yard of  Ocire,  as  meek  a  place  as  need  be,  with  the  Lynn 
brook  down  below  it.  There  is  not  much  of  company  there 
for  any  body's  tombstone,  because  the  parish  spreads  so  far 
in  woods  and  moors  without  dwelling-house.  If  we  bury 
one  man  in  three  years,  or  even  a  woman  or  child,  we  talk 
about  it  for  three  months,  and  say  it  must  be  our  turn  next, 
and  scarcely  grow  accustomed  ta  it  until  another  goes. 

Annie  was  not  allowed  to  come,  because  she  cried  so 
terribly;  but  she  ran  to  the  window  and  saw  it  all,  mooing 
there  like  a  little  calf,  so  frightened  and  so  left  alone.  As 
for  Eliza,  she  came  with  me,  one  on  each  side  of  mother, 
and  not  a  tear  was  in  her  eyes,  but  sudden  starts  of  wonder, 
and  a  new  thing  to  be  looked  at  unwillingly,  yet  curiously. 
Poor  little  thing!  she  was  very  clever,  the  only  one  of  our 
family — thank  God  for  the  same— but  none  the  more  for 
that  guessed  she  what  it  is  to  lose  a  father. 


40  LORNA  DOONE. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

NECESSARY   PRACTICE. 

About  the  rest  of  all  that  winter  I  remember  very  little, 
being  only  a  young  boy  then,  and  missing  my  father  most 
out-of-doors,  as  when  it  came  to  the  bird-catching,  or  the 
tracking  of  hares  in  the  snow,  or  the  training  of  a  sheep- 
dog. Oftentimes  I  looked  at  his  gun,  an  ancient  piece 
found  in  the  sea,  a  little  below  Glenthorne,  and  of  which 
he  was  mighty  proud,  although  it  was  only  a  matchlock; 
and  I  thought  of  the  times  1  had  held  the  fuse,  while  he 
got  his  aim  at  a  rabbit,  and  once  even  at  a  red  deer  rubbing 
among  the  hazels.  But  nothing  came  of  my  looking  at  it, 
so  far  as  I  remember,  save  foolish  tears  of  my  own  per- 
haps, till  John  Fry  took  it  down  one  day  from  the  hooks 
where  father's  hand  had  laid  it;  and  it  hurt  me  to  see  how 
John  handled  it,  as  if  he  had  no  memory. 

**  Bad  job  for  he  as  her  had  not  got  thiccy  the  naight  as 
her  coom  acrass  them  Doones.  Rackon  Varmer  Jan  ood 
a-zhowu  them  the  wai  to  kingdom  come,  'stead  of  gooin' 
he'rzell  zo  aisy.  And  a  maight  have  been  gooin'  to  market 
now,  'stead  of  laying  banked  up  over  yanner.  Maister 
Jan,  thee  can  zee  the  grave  if  thee  look  alang  this  here 
goon-barryel.  Buy  now,  whutt  be  blubberin'  at?  Wish  I 
had  never  told  thee." 

''John  Fry,  I  am  not  blubbering;  you  make  a  great 
mistake,  John.  You  are  thinking  of  little  Annie.  I 
cough  sometimes  in  the  winter- weather,  and  father  gives 
me  lickerish — I  mean — I  mean — he  used  to.  Now  let  me 
have  the  gun,  John." 

*'Thee  have  the  goon,  Jan!  Thee  isn't  fit  to  putt  un  to 
thy  zhoulder.     What  a  weight  her  be,  for  zure!" 

*'Menot  hold  it,  John!  That  shows  how  much  you 
know  about  it.  Get  out  of  the  way,  John;  you  are  op- 
posite the  mouth  of  it,  and  likely  it  is  loaded," 


NECESSARY  PRACTICE,  41 

John  Fry  jumped  in  a  livelier  manner  than  when  he  was 
doing  day-work;  and  I  rested  the  mouth  on  a  cross  rack- 
piece,  and  felt  a  warm  sort  of  surety  that  I  could  hit  the 
door  over  opposite,  or,  at  least,  the  cobwall  alongside  of  it, 
and  do  no  harm  in  the  orchard.  But  John  would  not 
give  me  link  or  fuse,  and,  on  the  whole,  I  was  glad  of  it, 
though  carrying  on  as  boys  do,  because  I  had  heard  my 
father  say  that  the  Spanish  gun  kicked  like  a  horse,  and 
because  the  load  in  it  came  from  his  hand,  and  I  did  not 
like  to  undo  it.  But  I  never  found  it  kick  very  hard, 
when  firmly  set  to  the  shoulder,  unless  it  was  badly  loaded. 

In  truth,  the  thickness  of  the  metal  was  enough  almost 
to  astonish  one;  and  what  our  people  said  about  it  may 
have  been  true  enough,  although  most  of  them  are  such 
liars — at  least,  I  mean  they  make  mistakes,  as  all  mankind 
must  do.  Perchance  it  was  no  mistake  at  all  to  say  that  this 
ancient  gun  had  belonged  to  a  noble  Spaniard,  the  captain 
of  a  fine  large  ship  in  the  **  Invincible  Armada,"  which  we 
of  England  managed  to  conquer,  with  God  and  the 
weather  helping  us,  a  hiindred  years  ago  or  more — I  can*t 
say  to  a  month  or  so. 

After  a  little  while,  when  John  had  fired  away  at  a  rat 
the  charge  I  held  so  sacred,  it  came  to  me  as  a  natural 
thing  to  practice  shooting  with  that  great  gun,  instead  of 
John  Fry's  blunderbuss,  which  looked  like  a  bell  with  a 
stalk  to  it.  Perhaps  for  a  boy  there  is  nothing  better  than 
a  good  windmill  to  shoot  at,  as  I  have  seen  them  in  flat 
countries;  but  we  have  no  windmills  upon  the  great  moor- 
land, yet  here  and  there  a  few  barn  doors,  where  shelter  is, 
and  a  way  up  the  hollows.  And  up  tliose  hollows  you  can 
shoot,  with  the  help  of  the  sides  to  lead  your  aim,  and 
there  is  a  fair  chance  of  hitting  the  door,  if  you  lay  your 
cheek  to  the  barrel,  and  try  not  to  be  afraid  of  it. 

Gradually  I  won  such  skill,  that  I  sent  nearly  all  the 
lead  gutter  from  the  north  porch  or  our  little  church 
through  our  best  barn  door,  a  thing  which  has  often 
repented  me  since,  especially  as  church-warden,  and  made 
me  pardon  many  bad  boys;  but  father  was  not  buried  on 
that  side  of  the  church. 

But  all  this  time,  while  I  was  roving  over  the  hills  or 
about  the  farm,  and  even  listening  to  John  Fry,  my 
mother,  being  so  much  older  and  feeling  trouble  longer. 


42  LORNA  UOCNE. 

went  about  inside  the  house,  or  among  the  maids  and 
fowls,  not  caring  to  talk  to  the  best  of  them,  except  when 
she  broke  out  sometimes  about  the  good  master  they  had 
lost,  all  and  every  one  of  us.  But  the  fowls  would  take  no 
notice  of  it,  except  to  cluck  for  barley;  and  the  maidens, 
though  they  had  liked  him  well,  were  thinking  of  sweet- 
hearts as  the  spring  came  on.  Mother  thought  it  wrong 
of  them,  selfish  and  ungrateful;  and  yet  sometimes  she 
was  proud  that  none  had  such  call  as  herself  to  grieve  for 
him.  Only  Annie  seemed  to  go  softly  in  and  out,  and 
cry,  with  nobody  along  of  her,  chiefly  in  the  corner  where 
tlie  bees  are  and  the  grindstone.  But  somehow  she  would 
never  let  anybody  behold  her;  being  set,  as  you  may  say, 
to  think  it  over  by  herself,  and  season  it  with  weeping. 
Many  times  1  caught  her,  and  many  times  she  turned  upon 
me,  and  then  I  could  not  look  at  her,  but  asked  how  long 
io  dinner-time. 

Now  in  the  depth  of  the  winter  month,  such  as  we  call 
December,  father  being  dead  and  quiet  in  his  grave  a  fort- 
night, it  happened  me  to  be  out  of  powder  for  practice 
against  his  enemies.  I  had  never  fired  a  shot  without 
thinking,  **  This  for  father's  murderer;^'  and  John  Fry  said 
that  I  made  3uch  faces  it  was  a  wonder  the  gun  went  off. 
But  though  I  could  hardly  hold  the  gun,  unless  with  my 
back  against  a  bar,  it  did  me  good  to  hear  it  go  off,  and 
hope  to  have  bitten  his  enemies. 

'^Oh,  mother,  mother,"  I  said  that  day,  directly  after 
dinner,  while  she  was  sitting  looking  at  me,  and  almost 
ready  to  say  (as  now  she  did  seven  times  in  a  week),  '*  How 
like  your  father  you  are  growing!  Jack,  come  here  and 
kiss  me'' —  **  oh,  mother,  if  you  only  knew  how  much  I 
want  a  shilling!" 

**  Jack,  you  shall  never  want  a  shilling  while  I  am  alive 
to  give  thee  one.  But  what  is  it  for,  dear  heart,  dear 
heart?" 

*'To  buy  something  over  at  Porlock,  mother.  Perhaps 
I  will  tell  you  afterward.  If  I  tell  not,  it  will  be  for  your 
good,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  children." 

"  Bless  the  boy,  one  would  think  he  was  threescore  years 
of  age  at  least.  Give  me  a  little  kiss,  you  Jack,  and  you 
shall  have  the  shilling." 

For  1  hated  to  kiss  or  be  kissed  in  those  days;  and  so  all 


NEC  ESS  A  n  r  PHA  CTIGE.  43 

honest  boys  must  do,  when  God  puts  any  strength  in  them. 
But  now  I  wanted  the  powder  so  mucli,  that  I  went  and 
kissed  mother  very  shyly,  looking  round  the  corner  first, 
for  Betty  not  to  see  me. 

But  mother  gave  me  half  a  dozen,  and  only  one  shilling 
for  all  of  them;  and  I  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart  to  ask 
her  for  another,  although  I  would  have  taken  it.  In  very 
quick  time  I  ran  away  with  the  shilling  in  my  pocket,  and 
got  Peggy  out  on  the  Porlock  road  without  my  mother 
knowing  it.  For  mother  was  frightened  of  that  road  now, 
as  if  all  the  trees  were  murderers,  and  would  never  let  me 
go  alone  so  much  as  a  hundred  yards  on  it.  And,  to  tell 
the  truth  I  was  touched  with  fear  for  many  years  about  it; 
and  even  now,  when  I  ride  at  dark  there,  a  man  by  a  peat- 
rick  makes  me  shiver,  until  I  go  and  collar  him.  But  this 
time  I  was  very  bold,  having  John  Fry's  blunderbuss,  and 
keeping  a  slnirp  lookout  wherever  any  lurking-place  was. 
However,  I  saw  only  sheep  and  small  red  cattle,  and  the 
common  deer  of  the  forest,  until  I  was  nigh  to  Porlock 
town,  and  then  rode  straight  to  Mr.  Pooke's  at  the  sign  of 
the  Spit  and  Gridiron. 

Mr.  Pooke  was  asleep,  as  it  happened,  not  having  much 
to  do  that  day;  and  so  I  fastened  Peggy  by  the  handle  of 
a  warming-pan,  at  which  she  had  no  better  manners  than 
to  snort  and  blow  her  breath;  and  in  I  walked  with  a 
manful  style,  bearing  John  Fry's  blunderbuss.  Now 
Timothy  Pooke  was  a  peaceful  man,  glad  to  live  without 
any  enjoyment  of  mind  at  danger,  and  I  was  tall  and  large 
already  as  most  lads  of  a  riper  age.  Mr.  Pooke,  as  soon  as 
he  opened  his  eyes,  dropped  suddenly  under  the  counter- 
board,  and  drew  a  great  frying-pan  over  his  head,  as  if  the 
Doones  were  come  to  rob  him,  as  their  custom  was,  mostly 
after  the  fair-time.  It  made  me  feel  rather  hot  and  queer 
to  be  taken  for  a  robber;  and  yet  methinks  I  was  proud 
of  it. 

**  Gadzooks,  Master  Pooke,"  said  I,  having  learned  fine 
words  at  Tiverton,  **  do  you  suppose  that  I  know  not  then 
the  way  to  carry  fire-arms?  An  it  were  the  old  Spanish 
matchlock,  in  the  lieu  of  this  good  flint-engine,  which 
may  be  borne  ten  miles  or  more  and  never  once  go  oil, 
scarcely  couldst  thwi  seem  more  scared.  I  might  point 
at  thee  muzzle  on — just  so  as  I  do  now — even  for  an  hour 


44  LORNA  WONW. 

or  more,  and  like  enough  it  would  never  shoot  thee,  unless 
I  pulled  the  trigger  hard,  with  a  crook  upon  my  finger; 
so,  you  see;  Just  so,  Master  Pooke,  only  a  trifle  harder/' 

"God  sake,  John  Ridd,  God  sake,  dear  boy,'"  cried 
Pooke,  knowing  me  by  this  time;  "  don't  'e,  for  good  love 
now,  don't  'e  show  it  to  me,  boy,  as  if  I  was  to  suck  it. 
Put  un  down,  for  good,  now;  and. thee  shall  have  the  very 
best  of  all  is  in  the  shop." 

*'Ho!"  I  replied,  with  much  contempt,  and  swinging 
round  the  gun  so  that  it  fetched  his  hoop  of  candles  down, 
all  unkindled  as  they  were:  "  Ho!  as  if  I  had  not  attained 
to  the  handling  of  a  gun  yet!  My  hands  are  cold  coming 
over  the  moors,  else  would  I  go  bail  to  point  the  mouth  at 
you  for  an  hour,  sir,  and  no  cause  for  uneasiness." 

But  in  spite  of  all  assurances,  he  showed  himself  desirous 
only  to  see  the  last  of  my  gun  and  me.  I  dare  say  "  vil- 
lainous saltpetre,"  as  the  great  playwright  calls  it,  was 
never  so  cheap  before  nor  since.  For  my  shilling.  Master 
Pooke  afforded  me  two  great  packages  over-large  to  go  into 
my  pockets,  as  well  as  a  mighty  chunk  of  lead,  which  I 
bound  upon  Peggy's  withers.  And  as  if  all  this  had  not 
been  enough,  he  presented  me  with  a  roll  of  comfits  for 
my  sister  Annie,  whose  gentle  face  and  pretty  manners 
won  the  love  of  every  body. 

There  was  still  some  daylight  here  and  there  as  I  rose 
the  hill  above  Porlock,  wondering  whether  my  mother 
would  be  in  a  fright,  or  would  not  know  it.  The  two 
great  packages  of  powder  slung  behind  my  back  knocked 
so  hard  against  one  another  that  I  feared  they  must  either 
spill  or  blow  up,  and  hurry  me  over  Peggy's  ears  from  the 
woolen  cloth  I  rode  upon.  For  father  always  liked  a  horse 
to  have  some  wool  upon  his  loins  whenever  he  went  far 
from  home  and  had  to  stand  about,  where  one  pleased, 
hot  and  wet  and  panting.  And  father  always  said  that 
saddles  were  meant  for  men  full-grown  and  heavy,  and 
losing  their  activity;  and  no  boy  or  young  man  on  our 
farm  durst  ever  get  into  a  saddle,  because  they  all  knew 
that  the  master  would  chuck  them  out  pretty  quickly.  As 
for  me,  I  had  tried  it  once,  from  a  kind  of  curiosity;  and  I 
could  not  walk  for  two  or  three  days,  the  leather  galled  my 
knees  so.  But  now,  as  Peggy  bore  me  bravely,  snorting 
every  now  and  then  into  a  cloud  of  air,  for  the  night  was 


KEGBlSSAR  Y  PRACTICE.  45 

growing  frosty,  presently  the  moon  arose  over  the  shoulder 
of  a  hill,  and  the  pony  and  I  were  half  glad  to  see  her,  and 
half  afraid  of  the  shadow  she  threw,  and  the  images  all 
around  us.  I  was  ready  at  any  moment  to  shoot  at  any 
body,  having  great  faith  in  my  blunderbuss,  but  hoping 
not  to  prove  it.  And  as  I  passed  the  narrow  place  where 
the  Doones  had  killed  my  father,  such  a  fear  broke  out 
upon  me  that  I  leaned  upon  the  neck  of  Peggy,  and  shut 
my  eyes  and  was  cold  all  over.  However,  there  was  not  a 
soul  to  be  seen,  until  we  came  home  to  the  old  farm-yard, 
and  there  was  my  mother  crying  sadly,  and  Betty  Mux- 
worthy  scolding. 

"  Come  along,  now,"  I  whispered  to  Annie,  the  mo- 
ment supper  was  over;  and  if  you  can  hold  your  tongue, 
Annie,  I  will  show  you  something.*' 

She  lifted  herself  on  the  bench  so  quickly  and  flushed  so 
rich  with  pleasure,  that  I  was  obliged  to  stare  hard  away, 
and  make  Betty  look  beyond  us.  Betty  thought  I  had 
something  hid  in  the  closet  beyond  the  clock-case,  and  she 
was  the  more  convinced  of  it  by  reason  of  my  denial.  Not 
that  Betty  Muxworthy,  or  anyone  else,  for  that  matter, 
ever  found  me  in  a  falsehood,  because  I  never  told  one, 
not  even  to  my  mother — or,  which  is  still  a  stronger  thing, 
not  even  to  my  sweetheart  (when  I  grew  up  to  have  one) — 
but  that  Betty  being  wronged  in  the  matter  of  marriage,  a 
generation  or  two  agone,  by  a  man  who  came  hedging  and 
ditching,  had  now  no  mercy,  except  to  believe  that  men 
from  cradle  to  grave  are  liars,  and  women  fools  to  look  at 
them. 

AVhen  Betty  could  find  no  crime  of  mine,  she  knocked 
me  out  of  the  way  in  a  minute,  as  if  I  had  been  nobody; 
and  then  she  began  to  coax  '^  Mistress  Annie,"  as  she 
always  called  her,  and  draw  the  soft  hair  down  her  hands, 
and  whisper  into  the  little  ears.  Meanwhile,  dear  mother 
was  falling  asleep,  having  been  troubled  so  much  about 
me;  and  ''  Watch,"  my  father's  pet  dog,  was  nodding  closer 
and  closer  up  into  her  lap. 

'^Now,  Annie,  will  you  come?"  I  said,  for  I  wanted  her 
to  hold  the  ladle  for  melting  of  the  lead;  "  will  you  come  at 
once,  Annie?  or  must  I  go  for  Lizzie,  and  let  her  see  the 
whole  of  it." 

**  Indeed,  then,  you  won't  do  that,"  said  Annie;  ''  Lizzie 


46  LORNA  BOONE, 

to  come  before  me,  John !  and  she  can't  stir  a  pot  of  brewis, 
and  scarce  knows  a  tongue  from  a  ham,  John,  and  says  it 
makes  no  difference,  because  both  are  good  to  eat.  Oh, 
Betty,  what  do  you  think  of  that  to  come  of  all  her  book 
learning?" 

*' Thank  God  he  can't  say  that  of  me,''  Betty  answered 
shortly,  for  she  never  cared  about  argument,  except  on  her 
own  side;  '^  thank  he,  I  says,  every  marnin'  a'most,  never 
to  lead  me  astray  so.  Men  is  desaving,  and  so  is  galanies; 
but  the  most  desaving  of  all  is  books,  with  their  heads  and 
tails,  and  the  speckots  in  'em,  lik  a  peg  as  have  taken  the 
maisles.  Some  folk  purtends  to  laugh  and  cry  over  them, 
God  forgive  them  for  liars!" 

It  was  part  of  Betty's  obstinacy  that  she  never  would 
believe  in  reading  or  the  possibility  of  it,  but  stoutly  main- 
tained to  the  very  last  that  people  first  learned  things  by 
heart,  and  then  pretended  to  make  them  out  from  patterns 
done  upon  paper,  for  the  sake  of  astonishing  honest  folk, 
just  as  do  the  conjurers.  And  even  to  see  the  parson  and 
clerk  was  not  enough  to  convince  her;  all  she  said  was, 
*'  It  made  no  odds,  they  were  all  the  same  as  the  rest  of 
us."  And  now  that  she  had  been  on  the  farm  nigh  upon 
forty  years,  and  had  nursed  my  father,  and  made  his 
clothes,  and  all  that  he  had  to  eat,  and  then  put  him  in 
his  coffin,  she  was  come  to  such  authority,  that  it  was 
not  worth  the  wages  of  the  best  man  on  the  place  to  say  a 
word  in  answer  to  Betty,  even  if  he  would  face  the  risk  to 
have  ten  for  one,  or  twenty. 

Annie  was  her  love  and  joy.  For  Annie  she  would  do 
anything,  even  so  far  as  to  try  to  smile,  when  the  little 
maid  laughed  and  danced  to  her.  And  in  truth  I  know 
not  how  it  was,  but  every  one  was  taken  with  Annie  at  the 
very  first  time  of  seeing  her.  She  had  such  pretty  ways 
and  manners,  and  such  a  look  of  kindness,  and  a  sweet  soft 
light  in  her  long  blue  eyes  full  of  trustful  gladness.  Every 
body  who  looked  at  her  seemed  to  grow  the  better  for  it, 
because  she  knew  no  evil.  And  then  the  turn  she  had  for 
cooking,  you  never  would  have  expected  it;  and  how  it  was 
her  ricliest  mirth  to  see  that  she  had  pleased  you.  I  have 
been  out  on  the  world  a  vast  deal,  as  you  will  own  here- 
after, and  yet  have  I  never  seen  Annie's  equal  for  making 
a  weary  man  comfortable. 


BARD  IT  IS  TO  CLIMB.  47 


CHAPTER   VII. 

HARD   IT  IS  TO   CLIMB. 

So  MAJTY  a  winter-night  went  by  in  a  hopeful  and  pleas- 
ant manner,  with  the  hissing  of  the  bright  round  bullets, 
cast  into  the  water,  and  the  spluttering  of  the  great  red 
apples  which  Annie  was  roasting  for  me.  We  always  man- 
aged our  evening's  work  in  the  chimney  of  the  back 
kitchen,  where  there  was  room  to  set  chairs  and  table,  in 
spite  of  the  fire  burning.  On  the  right-hand  side  was  a 
mighty  oven,  where  Betty  threatened  to  bake  us;  and  on 
the  left,  long  sides  of  bacon,  made  of  favored  pigs,  and 
growing  very  brown  and  comely.  Annie  knew  the  names 
of  all,  and  ran  up  through  the  wood-smoke,  every  now  and 
then,  when  a  gentle  memory  moved  her,  and  asked  them 
how  they  were  getting  on,  and  when  they  would  like  to  be 
eaten.  Then  she  came  back  with  foolish  tears,  at  think- 
ing of  that  necessity;  and  I,  being  soft  in  a  different  way, 
would  make  up  my  mind  against  bacon. 

But,  Lord  bless  you!  it  was  no  good.  Whenever  it  came 
to  breakfast- time,  after  three  hours  upon  the  moors,  I 
regularly  forgot  the  pigs,  but  paid  good  heed  to  the  rashers. 
For  ours  is  a  hungry  country,  if  such  there  be  in  England; 
a  place,  I  mean,  where  men  must  eat,  and  are  quick  to  dis- 
charge the  duty.  The  air  of  the  moors  is  so  shrewd  and 
wholesome,  stirring  a  man's  recollection  of  the  good  things 
which  have  betided  him,  and  whetting  his  hope  of  some- 
thing still  better  in  the  future,  that  by  the  time  he  sits 
dowR  to  a  cloth,  his  heart  and  stomach  are  turned  too  well 
to  say  **  nay  ''  to  one  another. 

Almost  everybody  knows,  in  our  part  of  the  world  at 
least,  how  pleasant  and  soft  the  fall  of  the  land  is  round 
about  Plover's  Barrows  farm.  All  above  it  is  strong  dark 
mountain,  spread  with  heath,  and  desolate,  but  near  our 
house  the   valleys  cove,  and  open  warmth  and  shelter. 


48  LORNA  DOONE, 

Here  are  trees,  and  bright  green  grass,  and  orchards  full 
of  contentment,  and  a  man  may  scarce  espy  the  brook, 
although  he  hears  it  everywhere.  And  indeed  a  stout  good 
piece  of  it  comes  through  our  farm-yard,  and  swells  some- 
times to  a  rush  of  waves,  when  the  clouds  are  on  the  hill- 
tops. But  all  below,  where  the  valley  bends,  and  the 
Lynn  stream  goes  along  with  it,  pretty  meadows  slope 
their  breast,  and  the  sun  spreads  on  the  water.  And 
nearly  all  of  this  is  ours  lill  you  come  to  Nicholas  Snowe's 
land. 

But  about  two  miles  below  our  farm,  the  Bagworthy 
water  runs  into  the  Lynn,  and  makes  a  real  river  of  it. 
Thence  it  hurries  away,  with  strength  and  a  force  of  will- 
ful waters,  under  the  foot  of  a  barefaced  hill,  and  so  to 
rocks  and  woods  again,  where  the  stream  is  covered  over, 
and  dark,  heavy  pools  delay  it.  There  are  plenty  of  fish 
all  down  this  way,  and  the  further  you  go  the  larger  they 
get,  having  deeper  grounds  to  feed  in;  and  sometimes  in 
the  summer  months,  when  mother  could  spare  me  off  the 
farm,  I  came  down  here,  with  Annie  to  help  (because  it 
was  so  lonely),  and  caught  well-nigh  a  basketful  of  little 
trout  and  minnows,  with  a  hook  and  a  bit  of  worm  on  it, 
or  a  fern- web,  a  blow-fly,  hung  from  a  hazel  pulse-stick. 
For  of  all  the  things  I  learned  at  Blundell's,  only  two 
abode  with  me;  and  one  of  these  was  the  knack  of  fishing, 
and  the  other  the  art  of  swimming.  And,  indeed,  they 
have  a  very  rude  manner  of  teaching  children  to  swim 
there;  for  the  big  boys  take  the  little  boys,  and  put  them 
through  a  certain  process,  which  they  grimly  call  '*  sheep- 
washing."  In  the  third  meadow  from  the  gate  of  the  school, 
going  up  the  river,  there  is  a  fine  pool  in  the  Low  man, 
where  the  Taunton  brook  comes  in,  and  they  call  it  the 
*' Taunton  pool."  The  water  runs  down  with  a  strong, 
sharp  stickle,  and  then  has  a  sudden  elbow  in  it,  where  the 
small  brook  trickles  in;  and  on  that  side  the  bank  is  steep, 
four  or  it  may  be  five  feet  high,  overhanging  loamily;  but 
on  the  other  side  it  is  flat,  pebbly,  and  fit  to  land  upon. 
Now  the  large  boys  take  the  small  boys,  crying  sadly  for 
mercy,  and  thinking,  mayhap,  of  their  mothers;  with 
hands  laid  well  at  the  back  of  their  necks,  they  bring  them 
up  to  the  crest  of  the  bank  upon  the  eastern  side,  and 
make  them  strip  their  clothes  off.     Then  the  little  boys. 


BARi)  IT  IS  TO  CLIMB.  49 

falling  on  their  naked  knees,  blubber  upward  piteously; 
but  the  large  boys  know  what  is  good  for  them,  and  will 
not  be  entreated.  So  they  cast  them  down,  one  after 
other,  into  the  splash  of  the  water,  and  watch  them 
go  to  the  bottom  first,  and  then  come  up  and  fight 
for  it,  with  a  blowing  and  a  bubbling.  It  is  a  very  fair 
sight  to  watch,  when  you  know  there  is  little  danger,  be- 
cause, although  the  pool  is  deep,  the  current  is  sure  to 
wash  a  boy  up  on  the  stones,  where  the  end  of  the  depth 
is.  As  for  me,  they  had  no  need  to  throw  me  more  than 
once,  because  I  jumped  of  my  own  accord,  thinking  small 
things  of  the  Lowman,  after  the  violent  Lynn.  Nevertheless, 
I  learned  to  swim  there,  as  all  the  other  boys  did;  for  the 
greatest  point  in  learning  that  is  to  find  that  you  must  do 
it.  I  loved  the  water  naturally,  and  could  not  long  be  out 
of  it;  but  even  the  boys  who  hated  it  most  came  to  swim 
in  some  fashion  or  other,  after  they  had  been  flung  for  a 
year  or  two  into  the  Taunton  pool. 

But  now,  although  my  sister  Annie  came  to  keep  me 
company,  and  was  not  to  be  parted  from  me  by  the  tricks 
of  the  Lynn  stream,  because  I  put  her  on  my  back  and 
carried  her  across,  whenever  she  could  not  leap  it,  or  tuck 
up  her  things  and  take  the  stones;  yet  so  it  happened  that 
neither  of  us  had  been  up  the  Bagworthy  water.  We 
knew  that  it  brought  a  good  stream  down,  as  full  of  fish 
as  of  pebbles;  and  we  thought  that  it  must  be  very  pretty 
to  make  a  way  where  no  way  was,  nor  even  a  bullock  came 
down  to  drink.  But  whether  we  were  afraid  or  not,  I  am 
sure  I  cannot  tell,  because  it  is  so  lon^  ago;  but  1  think 
that  had  something  to  do  with  it.  For  Bagworthy  water 
ran  out  of  Doone  Valley,  a  mile  or  so  from  the  mouth 
of  it. 

But  when  I  was  turned  fourteen  years  old,  and  put  into 
good  small-clothes,  buckled  at  the  knee,  and  strong  blue 
worsted  hosen,  knitted  by  my  mother,  it  happened  to  me 
without  choice,  I  may  say,  to  explore  the  Bagworthy  water. 
And  it  came  about  in  this  wise: 

My  mother  had  long  been  ailing,  and  not  well  able  to  eat 
much;  and  there  is  nothing  that  frightens  us  so  much  as 
for  people  to  have  no  love  of  their  victuals.  Now  I  chanced 
to  remember  that  once  at  the  time  of  the  holidays  I  had 
brought  dear    mother   from    Tiverton  a  jar  of  pickled 


50  LORNA  DOONE, 

loaches,  caught  oy  myself  in  the  Lowman  River,  and  baked 
ill  the  kitchen  oven,  with  vinegar,  a  few  leaves  of  bay,  and 
about  a  dozen  pepper- corns.  And  mother  had  said  that  in 
all  her  life  she  had  never  tasted  anything  fit  to  be  com- 
pared with  them.  Whether  she  said  so  good  a  thing  out 
of  compliment  to  my  skill  in  catching  the  fish  and  cooking 
them,  or  whether  she  really  meant  it,  is  more  than  I  can 
tell,  though  I  quite  believe  the  latter,  and  so  would  most 
people  who  tasted  them;  at  any  rate,  I  now  resolved  to  get 
some  loaches  for  her,  and  do  them  in  the  self -same  manner, 
just  to  make  her  eat  a  bit. 

There  are  many  people,  even  now,  who  have  not  come 
to  the  right  knowledge  what  a  loach  is,  and  where  he  lives, 
and  how  to  catch  and  |)ickle  him.  And  I  will  not  tell 
them  all  about  it,  because  if  I  did,  very  likely  there  would 
be  no  loaches  left  ten  or  twenty  years  after  the  appearance 
of  this  book.  A  pickled  minnow  is  very  good  if  you  catch 
him  in  a  stickle,  with  the  scarlet  fingers  upon  him;  but  I 
count  him  no  more  than  the  ropes  in  beer  compared  with  a 
loach  done  properly. 

Being  resolved  to  catch  some  loaches,  whatever  trouble 
it  cost  me,  I  set  forth  without  a  word  to  any  one,  in  the 
forenoon  of  St.  Valentine's  day  1675-76,  I  think  it  must 
have  been.  Annie  should  not  come  with  me  because  the 
water  was  too  cold;  for  the  winter  had  been  long,  and  snow 
lay  here  and  there  in  patches  in  the  hollow  of  the  banks, 
like  a  lady's  gloves  forgotten.  And  yet  the  spring  was 
breaking  forth,  as  it  always  does  in  Devonshire,  when  the 
turn  of  the  days  is  over;  and  though  there  was  little  to  see 
of  it,  the  air  was  full  of  feeling. 

It  puzzles  me  now  that  I  remember  all  those  young  im- 
pressions so  because  I  took  no  heed  of  them  at  the  time 
whatever;  and  yet  they  come  upon  me  bright,  when  nothing 
else  is  evident  in  the  gray  fog  of  experience.  I  am  like  an 
old  man  gazing  at  the  outside  of  his  spectacles,  and  seeing, 
as  he  rubs  the  dust,  the  image  of  his  grandson  playing  at 
bo-peep  with  him. 

But  let  me  be  of  any  age,  I  never  could  forget  that  day, 
and  how  bitter  cold  the  water  was.  For  I  doffed  my  shoes 
and  hose,  and  put  them  in  a  bag  about  my  neck,  and  left 
my  little  coat  at  home,  and  tied  my  shirt-sleeves  back  to 
my  shoulders.     Then  I  took  a  three-pronged  fork  firmly 


HARD  IT  IS  TO  CLIMB,  61 

bound  to  a  rod  with  cord,  and  a  piece  of  canvas  kerchief 
with  a  lump  of  bread  inside  it;  and  so  went  into  the 
pebbly  water,  trying  to  think  how  warm  it  was.  For  more 
than  a  mile  all  down  the  Lynn  stream,  scarcely  a  stone  I 
left  unturned,  being  thoroughly  skilled  in  the  tricks  of  the 
loach,  and  knowing  how  he  hides  himself.  For  being 
gray-spotted,  and  clear  to  see  through,  and  something  like 
H  cuttle-fish,  only  more  substantial,  he  will  stay  quite  still 
where  a  streak  of  weed  is  in  the  rapid  water,  hoping  to  be 
overlooked,  nor  caring  even  to  wag  his  tail.  Then,  being 
disturbed,  he  flips  away  like  whalebone  from  the  finger, 
and  hies  to  a  shelf  of  stone,  and  lies  with  his  sharp  head 
poked  in  under  it;  or  sometimes  he  bellies  him  into  the 
mud,  and  only  shows  his  back-ridge.  And  that  is  the 
time  to  spear  him  nicely,  holding  the  fork  very  gingerly, 
and  allowing  for  the  bent  of  it,  which  comes  to  pass,  I 
know  not  how,  at  the  tickle  of  air  and  water. 

Or,  if  your  loach  should  not  be  abroad  when  first  you 
come  to  look  for  him,  but  keeping  snug  in  his  little  home, 
then  you  may  see  him  come  forth  amazed  at  the  quivering 
of  the  shingles,  and  oar  himself  and  look  at  you,  and  then 
dart  up  stream,  like  a  little  gray  streak ;  and  then  you  must 
try  to  mark  him  in,  and  follow  very  daintily.  So  after 
tliat,  in  a  sandy  place,  you  steal  up  behind  his  tail  to  him, 
so  that  he  cannot  set  eyes  on  you,  for  his  head  is  up  stream 
always,  and  there  you  see  him  abiding  still,  clear,  and  mild, 
and  affable.  Then,  as  he  looks  so  innocent,  you  make  full 
sure  to  prog  him  well,  in  spite  of  the  wry  of  the  water, 
and  the  sun  making  elbows  to  everything,  and  the  tremb- 
ling of  your  fingers.  But  when  you  gird  at  him  lovingly, 
and  have  as  good  as  gotten  him,  lo!  in  the  go-by  of  the 
river  he  is  gone  as  a  shadow  goes,  and  only  a  little  cloud  of 
mud  curls  away  from  the  points  of  the  fork. 

A  long  way  down  that  limpid  water,  chill  and  bright  as 
an  iceberg,  went  my  little  self  that  day  on  man's  choice 
errand — destruction.  All  the  young  fish  seemed  to  know 
that  I  was  one  who  had  taken  out  God's  certificate,  and 
meant  to  have  tlie  value  of  it;  every  one  of  them  was 
aware  that  we  desolate  more  than  replenish  the  earth.  For 
a  cow  might  come  and  look  into  the  water,  and  put  her  yellow 
lips  down;  a  kingfisher,  like  a  blue  arrow,  might  shoot 
through  the  dark  alleys  over  the  channel,  or  sit  on  a  dip- 


52  LORNA  DOONB. 

ping  withy-bough  with  his  beak  sunk  into  his  breast- 
feathers;  even  an  otter  might  float  down  stream,  likening 
himself  to  a  log  of  wood,  with  his  flat  head  flush  with  the 
water-top,  and  his  oily  eyes  peering  quietly;  and  yet  no 
panic  would  seize  other  life,  as  it  does  when  a  sample  of 
man  comes. 

Now  let  not  any  one  suppose  that  I  thought  of  these 
things  when  I  was  young,  for  I  knew  not  the  way  to  do  it. 
And  proud  enough  in  truth  I  was  at  the  universal  fear  1 
spread  in  all  those  lonely  places,  where  I  myself  must  have 
been  afraid,  if  anything  had  come  up  to  me.  It  is  all  very 
pretty  to  see  the  trees  big  with  their  hopes  of  another  year, 
though  dumb  as  yet  on  the  subject,  and  the  waters  mur- 
muring gayety,  and  the  banks  spread  out  with  comfort; 
but  a  boy  takes  none  of  this  to  heart,  unless  he  be  meant 
for  a  poet  (which  God  can  never  charge  upon  me),  and  he 
would  liefer  have  a  good  apple,  or  even  a  bad  one,  if  he 
stole  it. 

When  I  had  traveled  two  miles  or  so,  conquered  now  and 
then  with  cold,  and  coming  out  to  rub  my  legs  into  a  lively 
friction,  and  only  fishing  here  and  there  because  of  the 
tumbling  water;  suddenly,  in  an  open  space,  where  mead- 
ows spread  about  it,  I  found  a  good  stream  flowing  softly 
into  the  body  of  our  brook.  And  it  brought,  so  far  as  1 
could  guess  by  the  sweep  of  it  under  my  knee-caps,  a  larger 
power  of  clear  water  than  the  Lynn  itself  had;  only  it 
came  more  quietly  down,  not  being  troubled  with  stairs 
and  steps,  as  the  fortune  of  the  Lynn  is,  but  gliding 
smoothly  and  forcibly,  as  if  upon  some  set  purpose. 

Hereupon  I  drew  up  and  thought,  and  reason  was  much 
inside  me;  because  the  water  was  bitter  cold,  and  my  little 
toes  were  aching.  So  on  the  bank  I  rubbed  them  well 
with  a  sprout  of  young  sting-nettle,  and  having  skipped 
about  a  while,  was  kindly  inclined  to  eat  a  bit. 

Now  all  the  turn  of  all  my  life  hung  upon  that  moment. 
But  as  I  sat  there  munching  a  crust  of  Betty  Muxworthy's 
sweet  brown  bread,  and  a  bit  of  cold  bacon  along  with  it, 
and  kicking  my  little  red  heels  against  the  dry  loam  to 
keep  them  warm,  I  knew  no  more  than  fish  under  the  fork 
what  was  going  on  over  me.  It -seemed  a  sad  business  to 
go  back  now  and  tell  Annie  there  were  no  loaches;  and  yet 
it  was  a  frightful  thing,  knowing  what  I  did  of  it,  to  ven- 


BAUD  IT  IS  TO  CLIMB.  53 

ture  where  no  grown  man  durst,  up  the  Bagworthy  water. 
And  please  to  recollect  that  I  was  only  a  boy  in  those  days, 
fond  enough  of  anything  new,  but  not  like  a  man  to 
meet  it. 

However,  as  I  ate  more  and  more,  my  spirit  arose  within 
me,  and  I  thought  of  what  my  father  had  been,  and  how 
he  had  told  me  a  hundred  times  never  to  be  a  coward. 
And  then  I  grew  warm,  and  my  little  heart  was  ashamed 
of  its  pitapating,  and  I  said  to  myself,  "  Now,  if  father 
looks,  he  shall  see  that  I  obey  him."  So  I  put  the  bag 
round  my  neck  again,  and  buckled  my  breeches  far  up 
from  the  knee,  expecting  deeper  water,  and  crossing  the 
Lynn,  went  stoutly  up  under  the  branches  which  hung  so 
dark  on  the  Bagworthy  river. 

I  found  it  strongly  over  woven,  turned  and  torn  with 
thicket-wood,  but  not  so  rocky  as  the  Lynn,  and  more 
inclined  to  go  evenly.  There  were  bars  of  chafed  stakes 
stretched  from  the  sides  half-way  across  the  current,  and 
light  outriders  of  pithy  weed,  and  blades  of  last  year's 
water-grass  trembling  in  the  quiet  places,  like  a  spider's 
threads,  on  the  transparent  stillness,  with  a  tint  of  olive 
moving  it.  And  here  and  there  the  sun  came  in,  as  if  his 
light  was  sifted,  making  dance  upon  the  waves,  and 
shadowing  the  pebbles. 

Here,  although  affrighted  often  by  the  deep,  dark  places, 
and  feeling  that  every  step  I  took  might  never  be  taken 
backward,  on  the  whole  I  had  very  comely  sport  of  loaches, 
trout  and  minnows,  forking  some,  and  tickling  some,  and 
driving  others  to  shallow  nooks,  whence  I  could  bail  them 
ashore.  Now,  if  you  have  ever  been  fishing,  you  will  not 
wonder  that  I  was  led  on,  forgetting  all  about  danger,  and 
taking  no  heed  of  the  time,  but  shouting  in  a  childish  way 
whenever  I  caught  a  *'  whacker  "  (as  we  called  a  big  fish  at 
Tiverton);  and  in  sooth  there  were  very  fine  loaches 
here,  having  more  lie  and  harborage  than  in  the  rough 
Lynn  stream,  though  not  quite  so  large  as  in  the  Lowman, 
where  I  have  even  taken  them  to  the  weight  of  half  a 
pound. 

But  in  answer  to  all  my  shouts  there  never  was  any 
sound  at  all,  except  of  a  rocky  echo,  or  a  scared  bird 
hustling  away,  or  the  sudden  dive  of  a  water-vole;  and  the 
place    grew    thicker    and    thicker,  and  the  covert  grew 


54  LORNA  DOONE. 

darker  above  me,  until  I  thought  that  the  fishes  might 
have  good  chance  of  eating  me,  instead  of  my  eating  the 
fishes. 

For  now  the  day  was  falling  fast  behind  the  brown  of 
the  hill-tops;  and  the  trees,  being  void  of  leaf  and  hard, 
seemed  giants  ready  to  beat  me.  And  every  moment 
as  the  sky  was  clearing  up  for  a  white  frost,  the  cold  of  the 
water  got  worse  and  worse,  until  I  was  fit  to  cry  with  it. 
And  so,  in  a  sorry  plight,  I  came  to  an  opening  in  the 
bushes,  where  a  great  black  pool  lay  in  front  of  me, 
wliitened  with  snow  (as  I  thought)  at  the  sides,  till  I  saw 
it  was  only  foam-froth. 

Now,  though  I  could  swim  with  great  ease  and  comfort, 
and  feared  no  depth  of  water,  when  I  could  fairly  come  to 
it,  yet  I  had  no  desire  to  go  over  head  and  ears  into  this 
great  pool,  being  so  cramped  and  weary,  and  cold  enough 
in  all  conscience,  though  wet  only  up  to  the  middle,  not 
counting  my  arms  and  shoulders.  And  the  look  of  this 
black  pit  was  enough  to  stop  one  from  diving  into  it,  even 
on  a  hot  summer's  day  with  sunshine  on  the  water;  1 
mean,  if  the  sun  ever  shone  there.  As  it  was,  I  shuddered 
and  drew  back;  not  alone  at  the  pool  itself  and  the  black 
air  there  was  about  it,  but  also  at  the  whirling  manner, 
and  wisping  of  white  threads  upon  it  in  stripy  circles 
round  and  round;  and  the  center  still  as  jet. 

But  soon  I  saw  the  reason  of  the  stir  and  depth  of  that 
great  pit,  as  well  as  of  the  roaring  sound  which  long  had 
made  me  wonder.  For  skirting  round  one  side,  with  very 
little  comfort,  because  the  rocks  were  high  and  steep,  and 
the  ledge  at  the  foot  so  narrow,  1  came  to  a  sudden  sight 
and  marvel,  such  as  I  never  dreamed  of.  For,  lo!  I  stood 
at  the  foot  of  a  long  pale  slide  of  Avater,  coming  smoothly 
to  me,  without  any  break  or  hinderance,  for  a  hundred 
yards  or  more,  and  fenced  on  either  side  with  cliff,  sheer, 
and  straight,  and  shining.  The  water  neither  ran  nor 
fell,  nor  leaped  with  any  spouting,  but  made  one  even 
slope  of  it,  as  if  it  had  been  combed  or  planed,  and  look- 
ing like  a  plank  of  deal  laid  down  a  deep  black  stair-case. 
However,  there  was  no  side-rail,  nor  any  place  to  walk 
upon,  only  the  channel  a  fathom  wide,  and  the  perpen- 
dicular walls  of  crag  shutting  out  the  evening. 

The  look  of  this  place  had  a  sad  effect,  scaring  me 


HARD  IT  IS  TO  CLIMB.  65 

very  greatly,  and  making  me  feel  that  I  would  give  some- 
thing only  to  be  at  home  again,  with  Annie  cooking  my 
Bupper,  and  our  dog,  '^  Watch,''  sniffing  upward.  But 
nothing  would  come  of  wishing;  that  I  had  long  found 
out;  and  it  only  made  one  the  less  inclined  to  work  with- 
out white  feather.  So  I  laid  the  case  before  me  in  a  little 
council;  not  for  loss  of  time,  but  only  that  I  wanted  rest, 
and  to  see  things  truly. 

Then  says  I  to  myself,  ''John  Ridd,  these  trees  and 
pools,  and  lonesome  rocks,  and  setting  of  the  sunlight,  are 
making  a  gruesome  coward  of  thee.  Shall  I  go  back  to 
my  mother  so,  and  be  called  her  fearless  boy?" 

Nevertheless,  I  am  free  to  own  that  it  was  not  any  fine 
sense  of  shame  which  settled  my  decision;  for  indeed  there 
was  nearly  as  much  of  danger  in  going  back  as  in  going 
on,  and  perhaps  even  more  of  labor,  the  journey  being  so 
roundabout.  But  that  which  saved  me  from  turning  back 
was  a  strange  inquisitive  desire,  very  unbecoming  in  a  boy 
of  little  years,  in  a  word,  I  would  risk  a  great  deal  to  know 
what  made  the  water  come  down  like  that,  and  what  there 
was  at  the  top  of  it. 

Therefore,  seeing  hard  strife  before  me,  I  girt  up  my 
breeches  anew,  with  each  buckle  one  hole  tighter,  for  the 
sodden  straps  were  stretching  and  giving,  and  mayhap  my 
legs  were  grown  smaller  from  the  coldness  of  it.  Then  I 
bestowed  my  fish  around  my  neck  more  tightly,  and  not 
stopping  to  look  much,  for  fear  of  fear,  crawled  along  over 
the  fork  of  rocks,  where  the  water  had  scooped  the  stone 
out,  and  shunning  thus  the  ledge  from  whence  it  rose  like 
the  mane  of  a  white  horse  into  the  broad  black  pool,  softly 
I  let  my  feet  into  the  dip  and  rush  of  the  torrent. 

And  here  I  had  reckoned  without  my  host,  although  (as 
I  thought)  so  clever;  and  it  was  much  but  that  I  went 
down  into  the  great  black  pool,  and  had  never  been  heard 
of  more;  and  this  must  have  been  the  end  of  me,  except 
for  my  trusty  loach-fork.  For  the  green  wave  came  down 
like  great  bottles  upon  me,  and  my  legs  were  gone  off  in  a 
moment,  and  I  had  not  time  to  cry  out  with  wonder,  only 
to  think  of  my  mother  and  Annie,  and  knock  my  head 
very  sadly,  which  made  it  go  round  so  that  brains  were  no 
good,  even  if  I  had  any.  But  all  in  a  moment,  before  I 
knew  aught,  except  that  I  must  die  out  of  the  way,  with  a 


56  LORNA  BOONE, 

roar  of  water  upon  me,  my  fork,  praise  God,  stuck  fast  in 
the  rock,  and  I  was  borne  up  upon  it.  I  feU  nothing 
except  that  here  was  another  matter  to  begin  upon;  and  it 
might  be  worth  while,  or  again  it  might  not,  to  have  an- 
other fight  for  it.  But  presently  the  dash  of  the  water 
upon  my  face  revived  me,  and  my  mind  grew  used  to  the 
roar  of  it;  and  meseemed  I  had  been  worse  off  than  this, 
when  first  flung  into  the  Lowman. 

Therefore  I  gathered  my  legs  back  slowly,  as  if  they  were 
fish  to  be  landed,  stopping  whenever  the  water  flew  too 
strongly  off  my  shin-bones,  and  coming  along  without 
sticking  out  to  let  the  wave  get  hold  of  me.  And  in  this 
manner  I  won  a  footing,  leaning  well  forward  like  a 
draught-horse,  and  balancing  on  my  strength,  as  it  were, 
with  the  ashen  stake  set  behind  me.  Then  I  said  to  my- 
self, '*  John  Ridd,  the  sooner  you  get  yourself  out  by  the 
way  you  came,  the  better  it  will  be  for  you.''  But  to  my 
great  dismay  and  affright,  I  saw  that  no  choice  was  left  me 
now,  except  that  I  must  climb  somehow  up  that  hill  of 
water,  or  else  be  washed  down  into  the  pool  and  whirl 
around  it  till  it  drowned  me.  For  there  was  no  chance  of 
fetching  back  by  the  way  I  had  gone  down  into  it,  and 
farther  up  was  a  hedge  of  rock  on  either  side  of  the  water- 
way, rising  a  hundred  yards  in  height,  and  for  all  I  could 
tell  five  hundred,  and  no  place  to  set  a  foot  in. 

Having  said  the  Lord's  Prayer  (which  was  all  I  knew), 
and  made  a  very  bad  job  of  it,  I  grasped  the  good  loach- 
stick  under  a  knot,  and  steadied  me  with  my  left  hand, 
and  so  with  a  sigh  of  despair  began  my  course  up  the 
fearful  torrent- way.  To  me  it  seemed  half  a  mile  at  least 
of  sliding  water  above  me,  but  in  truth  it  was  little  more 
than  a  furlong,  as  I  came  to  know  afterward.  It  would 
have  been  a  hard  ascent  even  without  the  slippery  slime 
and  the  force  of  the  river  over  it,  and  I  had  scanty  hope 
indeed  of  ever  winning  the  summit.  Nevertheless,  my 
terror  left  me,  now  I  was  face  to  face  with  it,  and  had 
to  meet  the  worst;  and  I  set  myself  to  do  my  best  with  a 
vigor  and  sort  of  hardness  which  did  not  then  surprise  me, 
but  have  done  so  ever  since. 

The  water  was  only  six  inches  deep,  or  from  that  to 
nine  at  the  utmost,  and  all  the  way  up  I  could  see  my 
feet  looking  white  in  the  gloom  of  the  hollow,  and  here  and 


HARD  IT  IS  TO  CLIMB.  67 

there  I  found  resting-place,  to  hold  on  by  the  cliff  and  pant 
a  while.  And  gradually  as  I  went  on,  a  warmth  of  cour- 
age breathed  in  me,  to  think  that  perhaps  no  other  had 
dared  to  try  that  pass  before  me,  and  to  wonder  what 
mother  would  say  to  it.  And  then  came  thought  of  my 
father  also,  and  the  pain  of  my  feet  abated. 

How  1  went  carefully,  step  by  step,  keeping  my  arms  in 
front  of  me,  and  never  daring  to  straighten  my  knees,  is 
more  than  I  can  tell  clearly,  or  even  like  now  to  think  of, 
because  it  makes  me  dream  of  it.  Only  I  must  acknowl- 
edge that  the  greatest  danger  of  all  was  just  where  I  saw 
no  jeopardy,  but  ran  up  a  patch  of  black  ooze-weed  in  a 
very  boastful  manner,  being  now  not  far  from  the  summit. 

Here  I  fell  very  piteously,  and  was  like  to  have  broken 
my  knee-cap,  and  the  torrent  got  hold  of  my  other  leg 
while  I  was  indulging  the  bruised  one.  And  then  a  vile 
knotting  of  cramp  disabled  me,  and  for  a  while  I  could 
only  roar,  till  my  mouth  was  full  of  water,  and  all  of  my 
body  was  sliding.  But  the  fright  of  that  brought  me  to 
again,  and  my  elbow  caught  in  a  rock-hole;  and  so  I 
managed  to  start  again,  with  the  help  of  more  humility. 

Now,  being  in  the  most  dreadful  fright,  because  I  was 
so  near  the  top,  and  hope  was  beating  within  me,  I 
labored  hard  with  both  legs  and  arms,  going  like  a  mill, 
and  grunting.  At  last  the  rush  of  forked  water,  where  first 
it  came  over  the  lips  of  the  fall,  drove  me  into  the  middle, 
and  I  stuck  a  while  with  my  toe-balls  on  the  slippery  links 
of  the  pop-weed,  and  the  world  was  green  and  gliddery, 
and  I  durst  not  look  behind  me.  Then  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  die  at  last;  for  so  my  legs  would  ache  no  more, 
and  my  breath  not  pain  my  heart  so;  only  it  did  seem 
such  a  pity,  after  fighting  so  long,  to  give  in,  and  the 
light  was  coming  upon  me,  and  again  I  fought  toward  it; 
then  suddenly  I  felt  fresh  air,  and  fell  into  it  headlong. 


58  LORNA  BOONE. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A   BOY  AND   A   GIRL. 

When^  I  came  to  myself  again,  my  hands  were  full  of 
young  grass  and  mold,  and  a  little  girl  kneeling  at  my 
side  was  rubbing  my  forehead  tenderly  with  a  dock-leaf 
and  a  handkerchief. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad!"  she  whispered  softly,  as  I  opened 
my  eyes  and  looked  at  her;  "  now  you  will  try  to  be  better, 
won't  you  ?" 

I  had  never  heard  so  sweet  a  sound  as  came  from  between 
her  bright  red  lips,  while  there  she  knelt  and  gazed  at  me; 
neither  had  I  ever  seen  anything  so  beautiful  as  the  large 
dark  eyes  intent  upon  me,  full  of  pity  and  wonder.  And 
then,  my  nature  being  slow,  and  perhaps,  for  that  matter, 
heavy,  I  wandered  with  my  hazy  eyes  down  the  black 
shower  of  her  hair,  as  to  my  jaded  gaze  it  seemed;  and 
where  it  fell  on  the  turf,  among  it  (like  an  early  star)  was 
the  first  primrose  of  the  season.  And  since  that  day,  I 
think  of  her,  through  all  the  rough  storms  of  my  life, 
when  I  see  an  early  primrose.  Perhaps  she  liked  my  coun- 
tenance, and  indeed  I  know  she  did,  because  she  said  so 
afterward;  although  at  the  time  she  was  too  young  to 
know  what  made  her  take  to  me.  Not  that  I  had  any 
beauty,  or  ever  pretended  to  have  any,  only  a  solid  healthy 
face,  which  many  girls  have  laughed  at. 

Thereupon  I  sat  upright,  with  my  little  trident  still  in 
one  hand,  and  was  much  afraid  to  speak  to  her,  being  con- 
scious of  my  country-brogue,  lest  she  should  cease  to  like 
me.  But  she  clapped  her  hands,  and  made  a  trifling 
dance  around  my  back,  and  came  to  me  on  the  other  side, 
as  if  I  were  a  great  plaything. 

*'What  is  your  name?''  she  said,  as  if  she  had  every 
right  to  ask  me;  "and  how  did  you  come  here,  and  what 
are  these  wet  things  in  this  great  bag?" 


A  BOY  AND  A  GIRL.  59 

''You  had  better  let  them  alone,"  I  said;  "they  are 
loaches  for  my  mother.  But  I  will  give  you  some,  if  you 
like." 

*^ Dear  me,  how  much  you  think  of  them!  Why,  they 
are  only  fish.  But  how  your  feet  are  bleeding!  oh,  I  must 
tie  them  up  for  you.  And  no  shoes  nor  stockings!  Is 
your  mother  very  poor,  poor  boy?'' 

"No,"  I  said,  being  vexed  at  this;  "we  are  rich  enough 
to  buy  all  this  great  meadow,  if  we  chose;  and  here  my 
shoes  and  stockings  be." 

"  Why,  they  are  quite  as  wet  as  your  feet;  and  I  cannot 
bear  to  see  your  feet.  Oh,  please  to  let  me  manage  them; 
1  will  do  it  very  softly." 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  much  of  that,"  I  replied;  "I  shall 
put  some  goose-grease  to  them.  But  how  you  are  looking 
at  me!  I  never  saw  any  one  like  you  before.  My  name  is 
John  Ridd.     What  is  your  name?" 

"  Lorna  Doone,"  she  answered,  in  a  low  voice,  as  if 
afraid  of  it,  and  hanging  her  head  so  that  I  could  see  only 
her  forehead  and  eyelashes;  "  if  you  please,  my  name  is 
Lorna  Doone;  and  I  thought  you  must  have  known  it." 

Then  I  stood  up  and  touched  her  hand,  and  tried  to 
make  her  look  at  me;  but  she  only  turned  away  the  more. 
Young  and  harmless  as  she  was,  her  name  alone  made 
guilt  of  her.  Nevertheless  I  could  not  help  looking  at  her 
tenderly,  and  the  more  when  her  blushes  turned  into  tears, 
and  her  tears  to  long,  low  sobs. 

"  Don't  cry,"  I  said,  "  whatever  you  do.  I  am  sure  you 
have  never  done  any  harm.  I  will  give  you  all  my  fish, 
Lorna,  and  catch  some  more  for  mother;  only  don't  be 
angry  with  me." 

She  flung  her  little  soft  arms  up  in  the  passion  of  her 
tears,  and  looked  at  me  so  piteously,  that  what  did  I  do 
but  kiss  her.  It  seemed  to  be  a  very  odd  thing,  when  I 
came  to  think  of  it,  because  I  hated  kissing  so,  as  all 
honest  boys  must  do.  But  she  touched  my  heart  with  a 
sudden  delight,  like  a  cowslip-blossom  (although  there 
were  none  to  be  seen  yet)  and  the  sweetest  flowers  of 
spring. 

She  gave  me  no  encouragement,  as  my  mother  in  her 
place  would  have  done;  nay,  she  even  wiped  her  lips 
(which  methought  was  rather  rude  of  her),  and  drew  away. 


60  LORNA  BOONE, 

and  smoothed  her  dress,  as  if  I  had  used  a  freedom.  Then 
I  felt  my  cheeks  grow  burning  red,  and  I  gazed  at  my  legs 
and  was  sorry.  For  although  she  was  not  at  all  a  proud 
child  (at  any  rate  in  her  countenance),  yet  I  knew  that  she 
was  by  birth  a  thousand  years  in  front  of  me.  They  might 
have  taken  and  trained  me,  or  (which  would  be  more  to 
the  purpose)  my  sisters,  until  it  was  time  for  us  to  die,  and 
then  have  trained  our  children  after  us,  for  many  genera- 
tions; yet  never  could  we  have  gotten  that  look  upon  our 
faces  which  Lorna  Doone  had  naturally,  as  if  she  had  been 
born  to  it. 

Here  was  I,  a  yeoman's  boy,  a  yeoman  every  inch  of  me, 
even  where  I  was  naked;  and  there  was  she,  a  lady  born, 
and  thoroughly  aware  of  it,  and  dressed  by  people  of 
rank  and  taste,  who  took  pride  in  her  beauty  and 
set  it  to  advantage.  For  though  her  hair  was  fallen  down 
by  reason  of  her  wildness,  and  some  of  her  frock  was  touched 
with  wet  where  she  had  tended  me  so,  behold  her  dress 
was  pretty  enough  for  the  queen  of  all  the  angels!  The 
colors  were  bright  and  rich  indeed,  and  the  substance  very 
sumptuous,  yet  simple  and  free  from  tinsel  stuff,  and 
matching  most  harmoniously.  All  from  her  waist  to  her 
neck  was  white,  plaited  in  close  like  a  curtain,  and  the 
dark  soft  weeping  of  her  hair,  and  the  shadowy  light  of 
her  eyes  (like  a  wood  rayed  through  with  sunset),  made  it 
seem  yet  whiter,  as  if  it  were  done  on  purpose.  As  for  the 
rest,  she  knew  what  it  was  a  great  deal  better  than  I  did; 
for  I  never  could  look  far  away  from  her  eyes  when  they 
were  opened  upon  me. 

Now,  seeing  how  I  heeded  her,  and  feeling  that  I  had 
kissed  her,  although  she  was  such  a  little  girl,  eight  years 
old  or  thereabouts,  she  turned  to  the  stream  in  a  bashful 
manner,  and  began  to  watch  the  water,  and  rubbed  one  leg 
against  the  other. 

I,  for  my  part,  being  vexed  at  her  behavior  to  me,  took 
up  all  my  things  to  go,  and  made  a  fuss  about  it,  to  let  her 
know  I  was  going.  But  she  did  not  call  me  back  at  all, 
as  I  had  made  sure  she  would  do;  moreover,  I  knew  that 
to  try  the  descent  was  almost  certain  death  to  me,  and  it 
looked  as  dark  as  pitch;  and  so  at  the  mouth  I  turned 
round  again,  and  came  back  to  her,  and  said,  '^  Lorna." 

"  Oh,  I  thought  you  were  gone,"  she  answered;  **  why 


A  BOY  AND  A  OIRL.  61 

did  you  ever  come  here?    Do  you  know  what  they  would 
do  to  us,  if  they  found  you  herewith  me?'' 

'*  Beat  us,  I  dare  say,  very  hard,  or  me  at  least.  They 
could  never  beat  you." 

''  No.  They  would  kill  us  both  outright,  and  bury  us 
here  by  the  water;  and  the  water  often  tells  me  that  I  must 
come  to  that." 

"  But  what  should  they  kill  me  for?" 

"  Because  you  have  found  the  way  up  here,  and  they 
never  could  believe  it.  Now,  please  to  go;  oh  please  to  go. 
They  will  kill  us  both  in  a  moment.  Yes,  I  like  you  very 
much" — for  I  was  teasing  her  to  say  it — "very  much  in- 
deed, and  I  will  call  you  John  Ridd,  if  you  like;  only 
please  to  go,  John.  And  when  your  feet  are  well,  you 
know,  you  can  come  and  tell  me  how  they  are." 

''But  I  tell  you,  Lorna;  I  like  you  very  much  indeed, 
nearly  as  much  as  Annie,  and  a  great  deal  more  than 
Lizzie.  And  I  never  saw  any  one  like  you;  and  I  must 
come  back  again  to-morrow,  and  so  must  you,  to  see  me; 
and  I  will  bring  you  such  lots  of  things — there  are  apples 
still,  and  a  thrush  I  caught  with  only  one  leg  broken,  and 
our  dog  has  iust  had  puppies " 

"  Oh  dear!  they  won't  let  me  have  a  dog.  There  is  not 
a  dog  in  the  valley.  They  say  they  are  such  noisy 
things " 

"  Only  put  your  hand  in  mine — what  little  things  they 
are,  Lorna! — and  I  will  bring  you  the  loveliest  dog;  I 
will  show  you  just  how  long  he  is." 

*'Hush!"  A  shout  came  down  the  valley;  and  all  my 
heart  was  trembling,  like  water  after  sunset,  and  Lorna's 
face  was  altered  from  pleasant  play  to  terror.  She  shrunk 
to  me,  and  looked  up  at  me,  with  such  a  power  of  weak- 
ness, that  I  at  once  made  up  my  mind  to  save  her  or  die 
with  her.  A  tingle  went  through  all  my  bones,  and  I  only 
longed  for  my  carbine.  The  little  girl  took  courage  from 
me,  and  put  her  cheek  quite  close  to  mine. 

"  Come  with  me  down  the  water-fall.  I  can  carry  you 
easily;  and  mother  will  take  care  of  you." 

'*  No,  no,"  she  cried,  as  I  took  her  up;  *'  I  will  tell  you 
what  to  do.  They  are  only  looking  for  me.  You  see  that 
hole,  that  hole  there?" 

She  pointed  to  a  little  niche  in  the  rock  which  verged 


62  LORNA  DOONB, 

the  meadow,  about  fifty  yards  away  from  us.  In  the  fading 
of  the  twilight  I  could  just  descry  it. 

"Yes,  I  see  it;  but  they  will  see  me  crossing  the  grass  to 
get  there." 

''Look!  lookP  She  could  hardly  speak.  ''There  is  a 
way  out  from  the  top  of  it;  they  would  kill  me  if  I  told  it. 
Oh,  here  they  come;  I  can  see  them." 

The  little  maid  turned  as  white  as  the  snow  which  hung 
on  the  rocks  above  her,  and  she  looked  at  the  water  and 
then  at  me,  and  she  cried,  "  Oh,  dear!  oh,  dear!"  And 
then  she  began  to  sob  aloud,  being  so  young  and  unready. 
But  I  drew  her  behind  the  withy-bushes,  and  close  down 
to  the  water,  where  it  was  quiet  and  shelving  deep,  ere  it 
came  to  the  lip  of  the  chasm.  Here  they  could  not  see 
either  of  us  from  the  upper  valley,  and  might  have  sought 
a  long  time  for  us,  even  when  they  came  quite  near,  if  the 
trees  had  been  clad  with  their  summer  clothes.  Luckily,  I 
had  picked  up  my  fish  and  taken  my  three-pronged  fork 
away. 

Crouching  in  that  hollow  nest,  as  children  get  together 
in  ever  so  little  compass,  I  saw  a  dozen  fierce  men  come 
down,  on  the  other  side  of  the  water,  not  bearing  any  fire- 
arms, but  looking  lax  and  jovial,  as  if  they  were  come 
from  riding  and  a  dinner  taken  hungrily.  "  Queen, 
queen!"  they  were  shouting,  here  and  there,  and  now  and 
then:  "  where  the  pest  is  our  little  queen  gone?" 

"They  always  call  me  '  queen,' and  I  am  to  be  queen 
by-and-by,"  Lorna  whispered  to  me,  with  her  soft  cheek 
on  my  rough  one,  and  her  little  heart  beating  against  me; 
"  oh,  they  are  crossing  by  the  timber  there,  and  then  they 
are  sure  to  see  us." 

"Stop,"  said  I;  "now  I  see  what  to  do.  I  must  get 
into  the  water,  and  you  must  go  to  sleep." 

"  To  be  sure,  yes,  away  in  the  meadow  there.  But  how 
bitter  cold  it  will  be  for  you!" 

She  saw  in  a  moment  the  way  to  do  it  sooner  than  I 
could  tell  her;  and  there  was  no  time  to  lose. 

"Now  mind  you  never  come  again,"  she  whispered  over 
her  shoulder,  as  she  crept  away  with  a  childish  twist, 
hiding  her  white  front  from  me;  "only  I  shall  come 
sometimes — oh,  here  they  are.  Madonna!" 

Daring  scarce  to  peep,  I  crept  into  the  water,  and  lay 


A  BOT  AND  A  GIRL.  63 

down  bodily  in  it,  with  my  head  between  two  blocks  of 
stone,  and  some  flood  drift  combing  over  me.  The  dusk 
was  deepening  between  the  hills,  and  a  white  mist  lay  on 
the  river;  but  I,  being  in  the  channel  of  it,  could  see  every 
ripple,  and  twig,  and  rush  and  glazing  of  twilight  above  it, 
as  bright  as  in  a  picture;  so  that  to  my  ignorance  there 
seemed  no  chance  at  all  but  what  the  men  must  find  me. 
For  all  this  time  they  were  shouting,  and  swearing,  and 
keeping  such  a  hullabaloo,  that  the  rocks  all  round  the 
valley  rung,  and  my  heart  quaked,  so  (what  with  this  and 
the  cold)  that  the  water  began  to  gurgle  round  me,  and  to 
lap  upon  the  pebbles. 

Neither,  in  truth,  did  I  try  to  stop  it,  being  now  so 
desperate,  between  the  fear  and  the  wretchedness,  till  I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  little  maid,  whose  beauty  and 
whose  kindliness  had  made  me  yearn  to  be  with  her. 
And  then  I  knew  that  for  her  sake  I  was  bound  to  be 
brave  and  hide  myself.  She  was  lying  beneath  a  rock, 
thirty  or  forty  yards  from  me,  feigning  to  be  fast  asleep, 
with  her  dress  spread  beautifully,  and  her  hair  drawn  over 
her. 

Presently  one  of  the  great  rough  men  came  round  a 
corner  upon  her;  and  there  he  stopped  and  gazed  a  while 
at  her  fairness  and  her  innocence.  Then  he  caught  her 
up  in  his  arms,  and  kissed  her  so  that  I  heard  him;  and 
if  I  had  only  brought  my  gun,  I  would  have  tried  to  shoot 
him. 

''Here  our  queen  is!  Here's  the  queen;  here's  the 
captain's  daughter!"  he  shouted  to  his  comrades;  "fast 
asleep,  by  God,  and  hearty!  Now  I  have  first  claim  to  her; 
and  no  one  else  shall  touch  the  child.  Back  to  the  bottle, 
all  of  you!'' 

He  sit  her  dainty  little  form  upon  his  great  square 
shoulder,  and  her  narrow  feet  in  one  broad  hand;  and  so 
in  triumph  marched  away,  with  the  purple  velvet  of  her 
skirt  ruffling  in  his  long  black  beard,  and  the  silken 
length  of  her  hair  fetched  out,  like  a  cloud  by  the  wind, 
behind  her.  This  way  of  her  going  vexed  me  so,  that  I 
leaped  upright  in  the  water,  and  must  have  been  spied  by 
some  of  them,  but  for  their  haste  to  the  wine-bottle.  Of 
their  little  queen  they  took  small  notice,  being  in  this 
urgency — although  they  had  thought  to  find  her  drowned — 


64  LORNA  BOONE, 

but  trooped  away  after  one  another  with  kindly  challenge 
to  gambling,  so  far  as  I  could  make  them  out;  and  I  kept 
sharp  watch,  I  assure  you. 

Going  up  that  darkened  glen,  little  Lorna,  riding  still 
the  largest  and  most  fierce  of  them,  turned  and  put  up  a 
hand  to  me,  and  I  put  up  a  hand  to  her,  in  the  thick  of 
the  mist  and  the  willows. 

She  was  gone,  my  little  dear  (though  tall  of  her  age  and 
healthy);  and  when  I  got  over  my  thriftless  fright,  I 
longed  to  have  more  to  say  to  her.  Her  voice  to  me  was 
so  different  from  all  I  had  ever  heard  before,  as  migh4;  be  a 
sweet  silver  bell  intoned  to  the  small  chords  of  a  harp. 
But  I  had  no  time  to  think  about  this,  if  I  hoped  to  have 
any  supper. 

I  crept  into  a  bush  for  warmth,  and  rubbed  my  shiver- 
ing legs  on  bark,  and  longed  for  mother's  fagot.  Then,  as 
daylight  sunk  below  the  forget-me-not  of  stars,  with  a  sor- 
row to  be  quit,  I  knew  that  now  must  be  my  time  to  get 
away,  if  there  were  any. 

Therefore,  wringing  my  sodden  breeches,  I  managed  to 
crawl  from  the  bank  to  the  niche  in  the  cliff  which  Lorna 
had  shown  me. 

Through  the  dusk  I  had  trouble  to  see  the  mouth,  at 
even  five  land-yards  of  distance;  nevertheless,  I  entered 
well,  and  held  on  by  some  dead  fern-stems,  and  did  hope 
that  no  one  would  shoot  me. 

But  while  I  was  hugging  myself  like  this,  with  a  boyish 
manner  of  reasoning,  my  joy  was  like  to  have  ended  in  sad 
grief  both  to  myself  and  my  mother,  and  haply  to  all 
honest  folk  who  shall  love  to  read  tliis  history.  For,  hear- 
ing a  noise  in  front  of  me,  and  like  a  coward  not  knowing 
where,  but  afraid  to  turn  round  or  think  of  it,  I  felt  myself 
going  down  some  deep  passage  into  a  pit  of  darkness.  It 
was  no  good  to  catch  the  sides,  the  whole  thing  seemed  to 
go  with  me.  Then,  without  knowing  how,  I  was  leaning 
over  a  night  of  water. 

Tl]is  water  was  of  black  radiance,  as  are  certain  diamonds, 
spanned  across  with  vaults  of  rock,  and  carrying  no  image, 
neither  showing  marge  nor  end,  but  centered  (as  it  might 
be)  with  a  bottomless  indrawal. 

With  that  chill  and  dread  upon  me,  and  the  sheer  rock 
nil  around,  and  the  faint  light  heaving  wavily  on  the 


A  BOT  AND  A  GIRL.  6$ 

silence  of  this  gulf,  I  must  have  lost  my  wits  and  gone  to 
the  bottom,  if  there  were  any. 

But  suddenly  a  robin  sung  (as  they  will  do  after  dark, 
toward  spring)  in  the  brown  fern  and  ivy  behind  me.  I 
took  it  for  our  little  Annie's  voice  (for  she  could  call  any 
robin),  and  gathering  quick  warm  comfort,  sprung  up  the 
steep  way  toward  the  starlight.  Climbing  back,  as  the 
stones  glided  down,  I  heard  the  cold  greedy  wave  go  lap- 
ping, like  a  blind  black  dog,  into  the  distance  of  arches 
and  hollow  depths  of  darkness. 


6C  LORNA  DOONB. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THERE   IS   NO   PLACE   LIKE   HOME. 

1  CAif  assure  you,  and  tell  no  lie  (as  John  Fry  always 
used  to  say,  when  telling  his  very  largest),  that  I  scrambled 
back  to  the  mouth  of  that  pit  as  if  the  evil  one  had  been 
after  me.  And  sorely  1  repented  now  of  all  my  boyish 
folly,  or  madness  it  might  well  be  termed,  in  venturing, 
with  none  to  help,  and  nothing  to  compel  me,  into  that 
accursed  valley.  Once  let  me  get  out,  thinks  I;  and  if 
ever  I  get  in  again,  without  being  cast  in  by  neck  and  by 
crop,  I  will  give  our  new-born  donkey  leave  to  set  up  for 
my  school-master. 

How  I  kept  that  resolution  we  shall  see  hereafter.  It  is 
enough  for  me  now  to  tell  how  I  escapad  from  the  den 
that  night.  First  I  sat  down  in  the  little  opening  which 
Lorna  had  pointed  out  to  me,  and  wondered  whether  she 
had  meant,  as  bitterly  occurred  to  me,  that  I  should  run 
down  into  the  pit,  and  be  drowned,  and  give  no  more 
trouble.  But  in  less  than  half  a  minute  I  was  ashamed 
of  that  idea,  and  remembered  how  she  was  vexed  to  think 
that  even  a  loach  should  lose  his  life.  And  then  I  said  to 
myself,  "Now  surely  she  would  value  me  more  than  a 
thousand  loaches;  and  what  she  said  must  be  quite  true 
about  the  way  out  of  this  horrible  place." 

Therefore  I  began  to  search  with  the  utmost  care  and 
diligence,  although  my  teeth  were  chattering,  and  all  my 
bones  beginning  to  ache  with  the  chillness  and  the  wet- 
ness. Before  very  long  the  moon  appeared  ever  the  edge 
of  the  mountain,  and  among  the  trees  at  the  top  of  it;  and 
then  I  espied  rough  steps,  and  rocky,  made  as  if  with  a 
sledge-hammer,  narrow,  steep  and  far  asunder,  scooped 
here  and  there  in  the  side  of  the  entrance,  and  then  round 
a  bulge  of  the  cliff,  like  the  marks  upon  a  great  brown 
loaf,  where  a  hungry  child  has  picked  at  it.     And  higher 


THERE  IS  NO  PLACE  LIKE  HOME,  67 

Op,  where  the  light  of  the  moon  shone  broader  upon  the 
precipice,  there  seemed  to  be  a  rude  broken  track,  like  the 
shadow  of  a  crooked  stick  thrown  upon  a  house-wall. 

Herein  was  small  encouragement;  and  at  first  I  was 
minded  to  lie  down  and  die;  but  it  seemed  to  come  amiss  to 
me.  God  has  his  time  for  all  of  us;  but  he  seems  to  advertise 
us  when  he  does  not  mean  to  do  it.  Moreover,  I  saw  a  move  • 
ment  of  lights  at  the  head  of  the  valley,  as  if  lanterns  were 
coming  after  me,  and  the  nimbleness  given  thereon  to  my 
heels  was  in  front  of  all  meditation. 

Straightway  I  set  foot  in  the  lowest  stirrup  (as  I  might 
almost  call  it),  and  clung  to  the  rock  with  my  nails,  and 
worked  to  make  a  jump  into  the  second  stirrup.  And  I 
compassed  that  too,  with  the  aid  of  my  stick;  although,  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  was  not  at  that  time  of  life  so  agile  as 
boys  of  smaller  frame  are,  for  my  size  was  growing  beyond 
my  years,  and  the  muscles  not  keeping  time  with  it,  and 
the  joints  of  my  bones  not  closely  hinged,  with  staring  at 
one  another.  But  the  step-hole  was  the  hardest  of  all, 
and  the  rock  swelled  out  on  me  over  my  breast,  and  there 
seemed  to  be  no  attempting  it,  until  I  espied  a  good  stout 
rope  hanging  in  a  groove  of  shadows,  and  just  managed  to 
reach  the  end  of  it. 

How  I  climbed  up,  and  across  the  clearing,  and  found  my 
way  home  through  the  Bagworthy  forest,  is  more  than  I 
can  remember  now,  for  I  took  all  the  rest  of  it  then  as  a 
dream,  by  reason  of  perfect  weariness.  And,  indeed,  it 
was  quite  be3^ond  my  hopes  to  tell  so  much  as  I  have  told; 
for  at  first  beginning  to  set  it  down,  it  was  all  like  a  mist 
before  me.  Nevertheless,  some  parts  grew  clearer,  as  one 
by  one  I  remembered  them,  having  taken  a  little  soft  cor- 
dial, because  the  memory  frightens  me. 

For  the  toil  of  the  water,  and  danger  of  laboring  up  the 
long  cascade  or  rapids,  and  then  the  surprise  of  the  fair 
young  maid,  and  terror  of  the  murderers,  and  desperation  of 
getting  away — all  these  are  much  to  me  even  now,  when  I 
am  a  stout  church-warden,  and  sit  by  the  side  of  my  fire, 
after  going  through  many  far  worse  adventures,  which  I 
will  tell,  God  willing.  Only  the  labor  of  writing  is  such 
(especially  so  as  to  construe  and  challenge  a  reader  on  parts 
of  speech,"^  and  hope  to  be  even  with  him);  that  by  this  pipe 
which  I  hold  in  my  hand,  I  ever  expect  to  be  beaten,  as  in 


68  LORNA  BOONE. 

the  days  when  old  Doctor  Twiggs,  if  I  made  a  bad  stroke^ 
in  my  exercise,  shouted  aloud  with  a  sour  joy,  ''  John 
Ridd,  sirrah,  down  with  your  small-clothes!" 

Let  that  be  as  it  may,  I  deserved  a  good  beating  that 
night,  after  making  such  a  fool  of  myself,  and  grinding 
good  fustian  to  pieces.  But  when  I  got  home,  all  the 
supper  was  in,  and  the  men  sitting  at  the  white  table,  and 
mother,  and  Annie,  and  Lizzie  neai*  by,  all  eager,  and 
offering  to  begin  (except,  indeed,  my  mother,  who  was 
looking  out  of  the  door-way),  and  by  the  fire  was  Betty 
Muxworthy,  scolding,  and  cooking,  and  tasting  her  work, 
all  in  a  breath,  as  a  man  would  say.  I  looked  through  the 
door  from  the  dark  by  the  wood-stack,  and  was  half  of  a 
mind  to  stay  out  like  a  dog,  for  fear  of  the  rating  and 
reckoning;  but  the  way  my  dear  mother  was  looking 
about,  and  the  browning  of  the  sausages,  got  the  better 
of  me. 

But  nobody  could  get  out  of  me  where  I  had  been  all 
the  day  and  evening;  although  they  worried  me  never  so 
much,  and  longed  to  shake  me  to  pieces,  especially  Betty 
Muxworthy,  who  never  could  learn  to  let  well  alone.  Not 
that  they  made  me  tell  any  lies,  although  it  would  have 
served  them  right  almost  for  intruding  on  other  people's 
business;  but  that  I  just  held  my  tongue,  and  ate  my 
supper  rarely,  and  let  them  try  their  taunts  and  jibes,  and 
drove  them  almost  wild,  after  supper,  by  smiling  exceeding 
knowingly.  And,  indeed,  I  could  have  told  them  things, 
as  I  hinted  once  or  twice;  and  then  poor  Betty  and  our 
little  Lizzie  were  so  mad  with  eagerness,  that  between 
them  I  went  into  the  fire,  being  thoroughly  overcome  with 
laughter  and  my  own  importance. 

Now  what  the  working  of  my  mind  was  (if,  indeed,  it 
worked  at  all,  and  did  not  rather  follow  suit  of  body)  it  is 
not  in  my  power  to  say;  only  that  the  result  of  my  adven- 
ture in  the  Doone  Glen  was  to  make  me  dream  a  good  deal 
of  nights,  which  I  had  never  done  much  before,  and  to 
drive  me,  with  tenfold  zeal  and  purpose,  to  the  practice  of 
bullet-shooting.  Not  that  I  ever  expected  to  shoot  the 
Doone  family,  one  by  one,  or  even  desired  to  do  so,  for  my 
nature  is  not  revengeful;  but  that  i^  seemed  to  be  somehow 
my  business  to  understand  the  gun,  as  a  thing  I  must  be 
at  home  with. 


THERE  18  NO  PLACE  LIKE  HOME.  69 

I  could  hit  the  barn  door  now  capitally  well  with  the 
Spanish  matchlock,  and  even  with  John  Fry's  blunderbuss, 
at  ten  good  land-yards  distance,  without  any  rest  for  my 
fusil.  And  what  was  very  wrong  of  me,  though  I  did  not 
see  it  then,  I  kept  John  Fry  there,  to  praise  my  shots, 
from  dinner-time  often  until  the  gray  dusk,  while  he  all 
the  time  should  have  been  at  work  spring-plowing  upon  the 
farm.  And,  for  that  matter,  so  should  I  have  been,  or  at 
any  rate  driving  the  horses;  but  John  waF  by  no  means  loath 
to  be  there,  instead  of  holding  the  plow-tail.  And  indeed 
one  of  our  old  sayings  is — 

"  For  pleasure's  sake  I  would  liefer  wet, 
Than  ha'  ten  lumps  of  gold  for  each  one  of  my  sweat." 

And  again,  which  is  not  a  bad  proverb,  though  unthrifty 
and  unlike  a  Scotsman's — 

"  God  makes  the  wheat  grow  greener. 
While  farmer  be  at  his  dinner." 

And  no  Devonshire  man,  or  Somerset  either  (and  I  belong 
to  both  of  them),  ever  thinks  of  working  harder  than  God 
likes  to  see  him. 

Nevertheless,  I  worked  hard  at  the  gun,  and  by  the  timQ 
that  I  had  sent  all  the  church-roof  gutters,  so  far  as  t 
honestly  could  cut  them,  through  the  red  pine  door,  1 
began  to  long  for  a  better  tool  that  would  make  less  noise 
and  throw  straighten  But  the  sheep-shearing  came,  and 
the  hay  season  next,  and  then  the  harvest  of  small  corn, 
and  the  digging  of  the  root  called  "batata"  (a  new  but 
good  thing  in  our  neighborhood,  which  our  folk  have  made 
into  "  taties ''),  and  then  the  sweating  of  the  apples,  and 
turning  of  tlie  cider-press,  and  the  stacking  of  the  fire- 
wood, and  netting  of  the  woodcocks,  and  the  springles  to 
be  minded  in  the  garden  and  by  the  hedge-rows,  where 
blackbirds  hop  to  the  mole-hills  in  the  white  October  morn- 
ings, and  gray  birds  come  to  look  for  snails  at  the  time 
when  the  sun  is  rising. 

It  is  wonderful  how  time  runs  away,  when  all  these 
things  and  a  great  many  others  come  in  to  load  him  down 
the  hill  and  prevent  him  from  stopping  to  look  about. 
And  I  for  my  part  can  never  conceive  how  people  who  live 
in  towns  and  cities,  where  neither  lambs  nor  birds  are 


70  LORNA  DOONB. 

(except  in  some  shop  windows),  nor  growing  corn,  nor 
meadow-grass,  nor  even  so  much  as  a  stick  to  cut  or  a  stile 
to  climb  and  sit  down  upon — how  these  poor  folk  get 
through  their  lives  without  being  utterly  weary  of  them, 
and  dying  from  pure  indolence,  is  a  thing  God  only  knows, 
if  his  mercy  allows  him  to  think  of  it. 

How  the  year  went  by  I  know  not,  only  that  1  was  abroad 
all  day,  shooting,  or  fishing,  or  minding  the  farm,  or  riding 
after  some  stray  beast,  or  away  by  the  sea-side  below  Glen- 
thorne,  wondering  at  the  great  waters,  and  resolving  to  go 
for  a  sailor.  For  in  those  days  1  had  a  firm  belief,  as  many 
other  strong  boys  have,  of  being  born  for  a  seaman.  And 
indeed  I  had  been  in  a  boat  nearly  twice;  but  the  second 
time  mother  found  it  out,  and  came  and  drew  me  back 
again;  and  after  that  she  cried  so  badly,  that  I  was  forced 
to  give  my  word  to  her  to  go  no  more  without  telling  her. 

But  Betty  Muxworthy  spoke  her  mind  quite  in  a  differ- 
ent way  about  it,  the  while  she  was  wringing  my  hosen, 
and  clattering  to  the  drying-horse. 

'^Zailor,  ees  fai!  ay  and  zarve  un  raight.  He  can^t  kape 
out  0*  the  watter  here,  whur  a'  must  goo  vor  to  vaind  un, 
zame  as  a  gurt  to-ad  squalloping,  and  mux  up  till  I  be  wore 
out,  I  be,  wi'  the  very  saight  of's  braiches.  How  will  un 
ever  baide  aboard  zhip,  wi'  the  watter  zinging  out  under 
un,  and  comin'  up  splash  when  the  wind  blow.  Latt  un 
goo,  missus,  latt  un  goo,  zay  I  for  wan,  and  old  Davy  wash 
his  clouts  for  un." 

And  this  discourse  of  Betty's  tended  more  than  my  mother's 
prayers,  I  fear,  to  keep  me  from  going.  For  I  hated  Betty 
in  those  days,  as  children  always  hate  a  cross  servant,  and 
often  get  fond  of  a  false  one.  But  Betty,  like  many  active 
women,  was  false  by  her  crossness  only;  thinking  it  just  for 
the  moment  perhaps,  and  rushing  away  with  a  bucket; 
ready  to  stick  t«  it,  like  a  clenched  nail,  if  beaten  the 
wrong  way  with  argument;  but  melting  over  it,  if  you  left ; 
lier,  as  stinging  soap,  left  alone  in  a  basin,  spreads  all 
abroad  without  bubbling. 

But  all  this  is  beyond  the  children,  and  beyond  me 
too  for  that  matter,  even  now  in  ripe  experience;  for 
I  never  did  know  what  women  mean,  and  never  shall 
except  when  they  tell  me,  if  that  be  in  their  power. 
Now  let  that  question  pass.     For  although  I  am  now 


THERE  IS  NO  PLACE  LIKE  HOME.  71 

in  a  place  of  some  authority,  I  have  observed  that  no  on^ 
ever  listens  to  me  when  I  attempt  to  lay  down  the  law, 
but  all  are  waiting  with  open  ears  until  1  do  enforce  it. 
And  so  methinks  he  who  reads  a  history  cares  not  much 
for  the  wisdom  or  folly  of  the  writer  (knowing  well  that 
the  former  is  far  less  than  his  own,  and  the  latter  vastly 
greater),  but  hurries  to  know  what  the  people  did,  and 
how  they  got  on  about  it.  And  this  I  can  tell,  if  any  one 
can,  having  been  myself  in  the  thick  of  it. 

The  fright  I  had  taken  that  night  in  Glen  Doone  satisfied 
me  for  a  long  time  thereafter;  and  I  took  good  care  not  to 
venture  even  in  the  fields  and  woods  of  the  outer  farm, 
without  John  Fry  for  company.  John  was  greatly  sur- 
prised and  pleased  at  the  value  I  now  set  upon  him;  until, 
what  betwixt  the  desire  to  vaunt  and  the  longing  to  talk 
things  over,  I  gradually  laid  bare  to  him  nearly  all  that  had 
befallen  me — except,  indeed,  about  Lorna,  whom  a  sort  of 
shame  kept  me  from  mentioning.  Not  that  I  did  not 
think  of  her,  and  wish  very  often  to  see  her  again;  but  of 
course  I  was  only  a  boy  as  yet,  and  therefore  inclined  to 
despise  young  girls,  as  being  unable  to  do  anything,  and 
only  meant  to  listen  to  orders.  And  when  I  got  along 
with  the  other  boys,  that  was  how  we  always  spoke  of 
them,  if  we  deigned  to  speak  at  all,  as  beings  of  a  lower 
order,  only  good  enough  to  run  errands  for  us,  and  to 
nurse  boy-babies. 

And  yet  my  sister  Annie  was  in  truth  a  great  deal  more 
to  me  than  all  the  boys  of  the  parish,  and  of  Brendon  and 
Countisbury  put  together;  although  at  the  time  I  never 
dreamed  it,  and  would  have  laughed  if  told  so.  Annie 
was  of  a  pleasing  face,  and  very  gentle  manner,  almost  like 
a  lady,  some  people  said ;  but  without  any  airs  whatever, 
only  trying  to  give  satisfaction.  And  if  she  failed,  she 
would  go  and  weep  without  letting  any  one  know  it, 
believing  the  fault  to  be  all  her  own,  when  mostly  it  was 
of  others.  But  if  she  succeeded  in  pleasing  you,  it  was 
beautiful  to  see  her  smile,  and  stroke  her  soft  chin  in  a 
way  of  her  own,  which  she  always  used  when  taking  note 
how  to  do  the  right  thing  again  for  you.  And  then  her 
cheeks  had  a  bright  clear  pink,  and  her  eyes  were  as  blue 
as  the  sky  in  spring,  and  she  stood  as  upright  as  a  young 
apple  tree,  and  no  one  could  help  but  smile  at  her,  and 


72  LORNA  DOONE. 

pat  her  brown  curls  approvingly;  whereupon  she  always 
courtesied.  For  she  never  tried  to  look  away  when  honest 
people  gazed  at  her;  and  even  in  the  court-yard  she  would 
come  and  help  to  take  your  saddle,  and  tell  (without  your 
asking  her)  what  there  was  for  dinner. 

And  afterward  she  grew  up  to  be  a  very  comely  maiden, 
tall,  and  with  a  well-built  neck,  and  very  fair  white 
shoulders,  under  a  bright  cloud  of  curling  hair.  Alas! 
poor  Annie,  like  most  of  the  gentle  maidens — but  tush,  I 
am  not  come  to  that  yet;  and  for  the  present  she  seemed 
to  me  little  to  look  at,  after  the  beauty  of  Lorna  Doone. 


A  BRA  VE  RESCUE  AND  A  ROUGH  RIDE.  73 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  BRAVE   RESCUE   AN^D   A   ROUGH    RIDE. 

It  happened  upon  a  November  evening  (when  I  was 
about  fifteen  years  old,  and  outgrowing:  my  strength  very 
rapidly,  my  sister  Annie  being  turned  thirteen,  and  a  deal 
of  rain  having  fallen,  and  all  the  troughs  in  the  yard  being 
flooded,  and  the  bark  from  the  wood-ricks  washed  down 
the  gutters,  and  even  our  water-shoot  going  brown)  that 
the  ducks  in  the  court  made  a  terrible  quacking,  instead 
of  marching  off  to  their  pen,  one  behind  another.  There- 
upon Annie  and  I  ran  out  to  see  what  might  be  the  sense  of 
it.  There  were  thirteen  ducks,  and  ten  lily-white  (as  the 
fashion  then  of  ducks  was),  not  I  mean  twenty-three  in  all, 
but  ten  white  and  three  brown-striped  ones;  and  without 
being  nice  about  their  color,  they  all  quacked  very  mov- 
ingly. They  pushed  their  gold-colored  bills  here  and 
there  (yet  dirty,  as  gold  is  apt  to  be),  and  they  jumped  on 
the  triangles  of  their  feet,  and  sounded  out  of  their  nos- 
trils; and  some  of  the  overexcited  ones  ran  along  low  on 
the  ground,  quacking  grievously,  with  their  bills  snapping 
and  bending,  and  the  roof  of  their  mouths  exhibited. 

Annie  began  to  cry  **dilly,  dilly,  einy,  einy,  ducksey," 
according  to  the  burden  of  a  tune  they  seem  to  have  accepted 
as  the  national  duck's  anthem;  but  instead  of  being  soothed 
by  it,  they  only  quacked  three  times  as  hard,  and  ran 
round  till  we  were  giddy.  And  then  they  shook  their  tails 
all  together,  and  looked  grave,  and  went  round  and  round 
again.  Now  I  am  uncommonly  fond  of  ducks,  whether 
roystering,  roosting  or  roasted;  and  it  is  a  fine  sight  to  be- 
hold them  walk,  poddling  one  after  other,  with  their  toes 
out,  like  soldiers  drilling,  and  their  little  eyes  cocked  all 
ways  at  once,  and  the  way  that  they  dib  with  their 
bills,  and  dabble,  and  throw  up  their  heads  and  enjoy 
something,  and  then  tell  the  others  about  it.     Therefore,  I 


74  LORNA  BOONS. 

knew  at  once,  by  the  way  they  were  carrying  on,  that  there 
must  be  something  or  other  gone  wholly  amiss  in  the  duck- 
world.  Sister  Annie  perceived  it  too,  but  with  a 
greater  quickness;  for  she  counted  them  like  a  good  duck- 
wife,  and  could  only  tell  thirteen  of  them,  when  she  knew 
there  ought  to  be  fourteen. 

And  so  we  began  to  search  about,  and  the  ducks  ran  to 
lead  us  aright,  having  come  that  far  to  fetch  us;  and  when 
we  got  down  to  the  foot  of  the  court-yard  where  the  two  great 
ash-trees  stand  by  the  side  of  the  little  water,  we  found 
good  reason  for  the  urgence  and  melancholy  of  the  duck- 
birds.  Lo!  the  old  white  drake,  the  father  of  all,  a  bird  of 
high  manners  and  chivalry,  always  the  last  to  help  .him- 
self from  the  pan  of  barley-meal,  and  the  first  to  show 
fight  to  a  dog  or  cock  intruding  upon  his  family,  this 
fine  fellow,  and  a  pillar  of  the  state,  was  now  in  a  sad  pre- 
dicament, yet  quacking  very  stoutly.  For  the  brook, 
wherewith  he  had  been  familiar  from  his  callow  childhood, 
and  wherein  he  was  wont  to  quest  for  water-newts,  and 
tadpoles,  and  caddice-worms,  and  other  games,  this  brook, 
which  afforded  him  very  often  scanty  space  to  dabble  in, 
and  sometimes  starved  the  cresses,  was  now  coming  down 
in  a  great  brown  flood,  as  if  the  banks  never  belonged  to 
it.  The  foaming  of  it,  and  the  noise,  and  the  cresting  of 
the  corners,  and  the  up  and  down,  like  a  wave  of  the  sea, 
were  enough  to  frighten  any  duck,  though  bred  upon 
stormy  waters,  which  our  ducks  never  had  been. 

There  is  always  a  hurdle  six  feet  long  and  four  and  a 
half  in  depth,  swung  by  a  chain  at  either  end  from  an  oak 
laid  across  the  channel.  And  the  use  of  this  hurdle  is  to 
keep  our  kine  at  milking-time  from  straying  away  there 
drinking  (for  in  truth  they  are  very  dainty)  and  to  fence 
strange  cattlr  or  Farmer  Snowe's  horses,  from  coming 
along  the  bed  of  the  brooks  unknown,  to  steal  our  sub- 
stance. But  now  this  hurdle,  which  hung  in  the  summer 
a  foot  above  the  trickle,  would  have  been  dipped  more 
than  two  feet  deep  but  for  the  power  against  it.  For  the 
torrent  came  down  so  vehemently  that  the  chains  at  full 
stretch  were  creaking,  and  the  hurdle  buffeted  almost  flat, 
and  thatched  (so  to  say)  with  the  drift-stuff,  was  going 
see-saw  with  a  sulky  splash  on  the  dirty  red  comb  of  the 
waters,     But  saddest  to  see  was  between  two  bars,  where  a 


A  BRA  VE  RESCUE  AND  A  RO  UQH  RILE,  75 

fog  was  of  rushes,  and  flood-wood,  and  wild-celery  haulm, 
and  dead  crow's-foot,  who  but  our  venerable  mallard 
iammed  in  by  the  joint  of  his  shoulder,  speaking  aloud  as 
he  rose  and  fell,  with  his  top-knot  full  of  water,  unable  to 
comprehend  it,  with  his  tail  washed  far  away  from  him, 
but  often  compelled  to  be  silent,  being  ducked  very  harshly 
against  his  will  by  the  choking  fall-to  of  the  hurdle. 

For  a  moment  I  could  not  help  laughing,  because,  being 
borne  up  high  and  dry  by  a  tumult  of  the  torrent,  he  gave 
me  a  look  from  his  one  little  eye  (having  lost  one  in  fight 
with  a  turkey-cock),  a  gaze  of  appealing  sorrow,  and  then 
a  loud  quack  to  second  it.  But  the  quack  came  out  of 
time,  I  suppose,  for  his  throat  got  filled  with  water,  as  the 
hurdle  carried  him  back  again.  And  then  there  was 
scarcely  the  screw  of  his  tail  to  be  seen  until  he  swung  up 
again,  and  left  small  doubt,  by  the  way  he  sputtered,  and 
failed  to  quack,  and  hung  down  his  poor  crest,  but  what 
he  must  drown  in  another  minute,  and  frogs  triumph  over 
his  body. 

Annie  was  crying  and  wringing  her  hands,  and  I  was 
about  to  rush  into  the  water,  although  I  liked  not  the  look 
of  it,  but  hoped  to  hold  on  by  the  hurdle,  when  a  man  on 
horseback  came  suddenly  round  the  corner  of  the  great 
ash- hedge  on  the  other  side  of  the  stream,  and  his  horse's 
feet  were  in  the  water. 

*'  Ho,  there,"  he  cried,  "get  thee  back,  boy.  The  flood 
will  carry  thee  down  like  a  straw.  I  will  do  it  for  thee, 
and  no  trouble." 

With  that  he  leaned  forward,  and  spoke  to  his  mare — 
she  was  just  the  tint  of  a  strawberry,  a  young  thing,  very 
beautiful — and  she  arched  up  her  neck,  as  misliking  the 
job;  yet,  trusting  him,  would  attempt  it.  She  entered  the 
flood,  with  her  dainty  fore  legs  sloped  further  and  further 
in  front  of  her,  and  ner  delicate  ears  pricked  forward,  and 
the  size  of  her  great  eyes  increasing;  but  he  kept  her  straight 
in  the  turbid  rush,  by  the  pressure  of  his  knee  on  her. 
Then  she  looked  back  and  wondered  at  him,  as  the  force 
of  the  torrent  grew  stronger,  but  he  bade  her  go  on;  and 
on  she  went,  and  it  foamed  up  over  her  shoulders;  and  she 
tossed  up  her  lip  and  scorned  it,  for  now  her  courage  was 
waking.  Then,  as  the  rush  of  it  swept  her  away,  and  she 
struck  with  her  fore  feet  down  the  stream,  he  leaned  from 


^6  LOUNA  DOONW. 

his  saddle  in  a  manner  which  I  never  could  have  thought 
])ossible,  and  caught  up  old  Torn  with  his  left  hand,  and 
set  him  between  his  holsters,  and  smiled  at  his  faint  quack 
of  gratitude.  In  a  moment  all  three  were  carried  down 
stream,  and  the  rider  lay  flat  on  his  horse,  and  tossed  the 
hurdle  clear  from  him,  and  made  for  the  bend  of  smooth 
water. 

They  landed,  some  thirty  or  forty  yards  lower,  in  the 
midst  of  our  kitchen-garden,  where  the  winter  cabbage 
was;  but  though  Annie  and  I  crept  in  through  the  hedge, 
and  were  full  of  our  thanks  and  admiring  him,  he  would 
answer  us  never  a  word  until  he  had  spoken  in  full  to  the 
mare,  as  if  explaining  the  whole  to  her. 

**  Sweetheart,  I  knew  thou  couldst  have  leaped  it,"  he 
said,  as  he  patted  her  cheek,  being  on  the  ground  by  this 
time,  and  she  was  nudging  up  to  him,  with  the  water  pat- 
tering off  from  her;  **  but  1  had  good  reason,  Winnie, 
dear,  for  making  thee  go  through  it." 

She  answered  him  kindly  with  her  soft  eyes,  and 
sniffed  at  him  very  lovingly,  and  they  understood  one 
another.  Then  he  took  from  his  waistcoat  two  pepper- 
corns, and  made  the  old  drake  swallow  them,  and  tried 
him  softly  upon  his  legs,  where  the  leading  gap  in  the 
hedge  was.  Old  Tom  stood  up  quite  bravely,  and  clapped  his 
wings,  and  shook  off  the  wet  from  his  tail-feathers;  and 
then  away  into  the  court-yard,  and  his  family  gathered 
around  him,  and  they  all  made  a  noise  in  their  throats, 
and  stood  up,  and  put  their  bills  together,  to  thank  God 
foi  this  great  deliverance. 

Having  taken  all  this  trouble,  and  watched  the  end  of 
that  adventure,  the  gentleman  turned  round  to  us  with  a 
pleasant  smile  on  his  face,  as  if  he  were  lightly  amused 
with  himself;  and  we  came  up  and  looked  at  him.  He  was 
rather  short,  about  John  Fry's  height,  or  may  be  a  little 
taller,  but  very  strongly  built  and  springy,  as  his  gait  at 
every  step  showed  plainly,  although  his  legs  were  bowed 
with  much  riding,  and  he  looked  as  if  he  lived  on  horse- 
back. To  a  boy  like  me  he  seemed  very  old,  being  over 
twenty,  and  well-found  in  beard;  but  he  was  not  more  than 
four-and -twenty,  fresh  and  ruddy-looking,  with  a  short 
nose  and  keen  blue  eyes,  and  a  merry,  waggish  jerk  about 
him,  as  if  the  world  were  not  ir?  earnest.     Yet  he  had  a 


A  BRA  VE  RE8CXTB  AND  A  ROUGH  RIDE,  77 

sharp,  stern  way,  like  the  crack  of  a  pistol,  if  anything 
misliked  him;  and  we  knew  (for  children  see  such  things) 
that  it  was  safer  to  tickle  than  buffet  him. 

"  Well,  young  uns,  what  be  gaping  at?"  He  gave  pretty 
Annie  a  chuck  on  the  chin  and  took  me  all  in  without 
winking. 

*'  Your  mare,"  said  I,  standing  stoutly  up,  being  a  tall 
boy  now;  "  I  never  saw  such  a  beauty,  sir.  Will  you  let 
m^  have  a  ride  of  her?" 

"  Think  thou  couldst  ride  her,  lad  ?  She  will  have  no 
burden  but  mine.  Thou  couldst  never  ride  her.  Tut!  I 
would  be  loath  to  kill  thee." 

*'Ride  her!"  I  cried,  with  the  bravest  scorn,  for  she 
looked  so  kind  and  gentle,  *'  there  never  was  horse  upon 
Exmoor  foaled  but  I  could  tackle  in  half  an  hour.  Only 
I  never  ride  upon  saddle.  Take  them  leathers  off  of 
her." 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  dry  little  whistle,  and  thrust  his 
hands  into  his  breeches  pockets,  and  so  grinned  that  I 
could  not  stand  it.  And  Annie  laid  hold  of  me  in  such  a 
way  that  I  was  almost  mad  with  her.  And  he  laughed, 
and  approved  her  for  doing  so.  And  the  worst  of  all  was — 
he  said  nothing." 

"Get  away,  Annie,  will  you?  Do  you  think  Fm  a  fool, 
good  sir?  Only  trust  me  with  her,  and  I  will  not  override 
her." 

"  For  that  I  will  go  bail,  my  son.  She  is  liker  to  over- 
ride thee.  But  the  ground  is  soft  to  fall  upon,  after  all 
this  rain.  Now  come  out  into  the  yard,  young  man,  for 
the  sake  of  your  mother's  cabbages.  And  the  mellow 
straw  bed  will  be  softer  for  thee,  since  pride  must  have  its 
fall.  I  am  thy  mother's  cousin,  boy,  and  am  going  up  to 
house.  Tom  Paggus  is  my  name,  as  everybody  knows,  and 
this  is  my  young  mare,  Winnie." 

What  a  fool  I  must  have  been  not  to  know  it  at  once! 
Tom  Faggus,  the  great  highwayman,  and  his  young  blood- 
mare,  the  strawberry!  Already  her  fame  was  noised  abroad, 
nearly  as  much  as  her  master's,  and  my  longing  to  ride  her 
grew  tenfold,  but  fear  came  at  the  back  of  it.  Not  that  I 
had  the  smallest  fear  of  what  the  mare  could  do  to  me,  by 
fair  play  and  horse-trickery,  but  that  the  glory  of  sitting 
upon  her  seemed  to  be  too  great  for  me;  especially  as  there 


78  LOBNA  DOONE. 

were  rumors  abroad  that  she  was  not  a  mare,  after  all,  but 
a  witch.  However,  she  looked  like  a  filly  all  over,  and 
wonderfully  beautiful  with  her  supple  stride,  and  soft  slope 
of  shoulder,  and  glossy  coat  beaded  with  water,  and  prom- 
inent eyes  full  of  docile  fire.  Whether  this  cauie  from  her 
Eastern  blood  of  the  Arabs  newly  imported,  and  whether 
the  cream-color,  mixed  with  our  bay,  led  to  that  bright 
strawberry  tint,  is  certainly  more  than  I  can  decide,  being 
chiefly  acquaint  with  farm-horses.  And  these  come  of  any 
color  and  form;  you  never  can  count  what  they  will  be, 
and  are  lucky  to  get  four  legs  to  them." 

Mr.  Faggus  gave  his  mare  a  wink,  and  she  walked 
demurely  after  him,  a  bright  young  thing,  flowing  over 
with  life,  yet  dropping  her  soul  to  a  higher  one,  and  led 
by  love  to  anything,  as  the  manner  is  of  females  when  they 
know  what  is  the  best  for  them.  Then  Winnie  trod 
lightly  upon  the  straw,  because  it  had  soft  muck  under  it, 
and  her  delicate  feet  came  back  again. 

"  Up  for  it  still,  boy,  be  ye?"  Tom  Faggus  stopped,  and 
the  mare  stopped  there;  and  they  looked  at  me  pro- 
vokingly. 

"  Is  she  able  to  leap,  sir?  There  is  good  take-off  on  this 
side  of  the  brook." 

Mr.  Faggus  laughed  very  quietly,  turning  round  to 
Winnie  so  that  she  might  enter  into  it.  And  she,  for  her 
part,  seemed  to  know  exactly  where  the  fun  lay. 

"  Good  tumble-off,  you  mean,  my  boy.  Well  there  can 
be  small  harm  to  thee.  I  am  akin  to  thy  family,  and  know 
the  substance  of  their  skulls." 

"Let  me  get  up,"  said  I,  waxing  wroth,  for  reasons  I 
can  not  tell  you,  because  they  are  too  manifold;  "  take  oft' 
your  saddle-bag  things.  I  will  try  not  to  squeeze  her  ribs 
in,  unless  she  plays  nonsense  with  me." 

Then  Mr.  Faggus  was  up  on  his  mettle,  at  this  proud 
speech  of  mine;  and  John  Fry  was  running  up  all  the 
while,  and  Bill  Dadds,  and  half  a  dozen.  Tom  Faggus 
gave  one  glance  around,  and  then  dropped  all  regard  for 
me.  The  high  repute  of  his  mare  was  at  stake,  and  what 
was  my  life  compared  to  it?  Through  my  defiance,  and 
stupid  ways,  here  was  I  in  a  duello,  and  my  legs  not  come 
to  their  strength  yet,  and  my  arms  as  limp  as  a  herring. 

Something  of  this  occurred  to  him,  even  in  his  wrath 


A  BRA  VE  REBGVE  AND  A  HOUQH  HIDE.  79 

with  me,  for  he"  spoke  very  softly  to  the  filly,  who  now 
could  scarce  subdue  herself;  but  she  drew  in  her  nostrils, 
and  breathed  to  his  breath,  and  did  all  she  could  to 
answer  him. 

"Not  too  hard,  my  dear,"  he  said;  "let  him  gently 
down  on  the  mixen.  That  will  be  quite  enough." 
Then  he  turned  the  saddle  off  and  I  was  up  in  a 
moment.  She  began  at  first  so  easily,  and  pricked 
her  ears  so  lovingly,  and  minced  about  as  if  pleased 
to  find  so  light  a  weight  upon  her,  that  I  thought 
she  knew  I  could  ride  a  little,  and  feared  to  show  any 
capers.  "  Gee  wugg,  Polly!"  cried  I,  for  all  the  men  were 
now  looking  on,  being  then  at  the  leaving-off  time;  "gee 
wugg,  Polly,  and  show  what  thou  be'est  made  of."  With 
that  I  plugged  my  heels  into  her,  and  Billy  Dadds  flung 
his  hat  up. 

Nevertheless,  she  outraged  not,  though  her  eyes  were 
frightening  Annie,  and  John  Fry  took  a  pick  to  keep  him 
safe;  but  she  curbed  to  and  fro  with  her  strong  forearms 
rising  like  springs  ingathered,  waiting  and  quivering  griev- 
ously, and  beginning  to  sweat  about  it.  Then  her  master 
gave  a  shrill,  clear  whistle,  when  her  ears  were  bent  toward 
him,  and  I  felt  her  form  beneath  me  gathering  up  like 
whalebone,  and  her  hind  legs  coming  under  her,  and  I 
knew  that  I  was  in  for  it. 

First  she  reared  upright  in  the  air,  and  struck  me  full  on 
the  nose  with  her  comb,  till  I  bled  worse  than  Robin  Snell 
made  me;  and  then  down  with  her  fore  feet  deep  in  the 
straw,  and  her  hindfeet  going  to  heaven.  Finding  me 
stick  to  her  still  like  wax,  for  my  mettle  was  up  as  hers  was, 
away  she  flew  with  me  swifter  than  ever  I  went  before,  or 
since,  I  trow.  She  drove  full-head  at  the  cob-wall—"  Oh, 
Jack,  slip  off!"  screamed  Annie — then  she  turned  like 
light,  when  I  thought  to  crush  her,  and  ground  my  left 
knee  against  it.  "Mux  me!"  I  cried,  for  my  breeches 
were  broken,  and  short  words  went  the  furthest — "  if  you 
kill  me,  you  shall  die  with  me."  Then  she  took  the  court- 
yard gate  at  a  leap,  knocking  my  words  between  my  teeth, 
and  then  right  over  a  quickset  hedge,  as  if  the  sky  were  a 
breath  to  her;  and  away  for  the  water-meadows,  while 
I  lay  on  her  neck  like  a  child  at  the  breast,  and  wished  I 
had  never  been  born.    Straight  away  all  in  the  front  of  the 


80  LOR^A  DOONE. 

wind,  and  scattering  clouds  around  her,  all  I  knew  of  the 
speed  we  made  was  the  frightful  flash  of  her  shoulders,  and 
her  mane  like  trees  in  a  tempest.  I  felt  the  earth  under  us 
rushing  away,  and  the  air  left  far  behind  us,  and  my 
breath  came  and  went,  and  I  prayed  to  God,  and  was  sorry 
to  be  so  late  of  it. 

All  the  long  swift  while,  without  power  of  thought,  I 
clung  to  her  crest  and  shoulders,  and  dug  my  nails  into 
her  creases,  and  my  toes  into  her  flank  part,  and  was 
proud  of  holding  on  so  long,  though  sure  of  being  beaten. 
Then  in  her  fury  at  feeling  me  still,  she  rushed  at  another 
device  for  it,  and  leaped  the  wide  water-trough  sideways 
across,  to  and  fro,  till  no  breath  was  left  in  me.  The 
hazel-boughs  took  me,  too,  hard  in  the  face,  and  the  tall 
dog-briers  got  hold  of  me,  and  the  ache  of  my  back  was  like 
crimping  a  fish;  till  I  longed  to  give  it  up,  thoroughly 
beaten,  and  lie  there  and  die  in  the  cresses.  But  there 
came  a  shrill  whistle  from  up  the  home  hill,  where  the 
people  had  hurried  to  watch  us;  and  the  mare  stopped  as  if 
with  a  bullet;  then  set  off  for  home  with  the  speed  of  a 
swallow,  and  going  as  smoothly  and  silently.  I  never  had 
dreamed  of  such  delicate  motion,  fluent,  and  graceful  and 
ambient,  soft  as  the  breeze  flitting  over  the  flowers,  but 
swift  as  the  summer  lightning.  I  sat  up  again,  but  my 
strength  was  all  spent,  and  no  time  left  to  recover  it;  and 
though  she  rose  at  our  gate  like  a  bird,  I  tumbled  off  into 
the  mixen. 


TOM  DmSR  VF8  HIS  8VPPM.  gl 


CHAPTER  XI. 

TOM   DESERVES   HIS  SUPPER. 

'*  Well  done,  lad,"  Mr.  Faggus  said,  good-naturedly; 
for  all  were  now  gathered  round  me  as  I  rose  from  the 
ground,  somewhat  tottering,  and  miry,  and  crest-fallen, 
but  otherwise  none  the  worse  (having  fallen  upon  my  head, 
which  is  of  uncommon  substance);  nevertheless  John  Fry 
was  laughing,  so  that  I  longed  to  clout  his  ears  for  him; 
**  not  at  all  bad  work,  my  boy,  we  may  teach  you  to  ride 
by-and-by,  I  see;  I  thought  not  to  see  you  stick  on  so 
long " 

*^I  should  have  stuck  on  much  longer,  sir,  if  her  sides 
had  not  been  wet.     She  was  so  slippery " 

**  Boy,  thou  art  right.  She  hath  given  many  the  slip. 
Ha,  hai  Vex  not.  Jack,  that  I  laugh  at  thee.  She  is  like 
a  sweetheart  to  me,  and  better  than  any  of  them  be.  It 
would  have  gone  to  my  heart  if  thou  hadst  conquered. 
None  but  I  can  ride  my  Winnie  mare." 

"  Foul  shame  to  thee  then,  Tom  Faggus,"  cried  mother, 
coming  up  suddenly,  and  speaking  so  that  all  were  amazed, 
having  never  seen  her  wrathful,  "  to  put  my  boy,  my  boy, 
across  her,  as  if  his  life  were  no  more  than  thine !  The  only 
son  of  his  father,  an  honest  man,  and  a  quiet  man;  not  a 
roysteringjdrunken  robber!  A  man  would  have  taken  thy 
mad  horse  and  thee,  and  flung  them  both  into  horse-pond — 
ay,  and  what's  more,  I'll  have  it  done  now,  if  a  hair  of  his 
head  is  injured.  Oh,  my  boy,  my  boy!  What  could  I  do 
without  thee?  Put  up  the  other  arm,  Johnny."  All  the 
time  mother  was  scolding  so,  she  was  feeling  me  and 
wiping  me;  while  Faggus  tried  to  look  greatly  ashamed, 
having  sense  of  the  ways  of  women. 

''Only  look  at  his  jacket,  mother!"  cried  Annie;  "and 
a  shilling's  worth  gone  from  his  small-clothes! " 

"  What  care  I  for  his  clothes,  thou  goose?    Take  that. 


82  LORNA  DOOlfS}. 

and  heed  thine  own  a  bit/'  And  mother  gave  Annie  a  slap 
which  sent  her  swinging  up  against  Mr.  Faggus,  and  he 
caught  her,  and  kissed  and  protected  her;  and  she  looked 
at  him  very  nicely,  with  great  tears  in  her  soft  blue  eyes. 
'*  Oh,  fie  upon  thee,  fi-e  upon  thee!"  cried  mother  (being  yet 
more  vexed  with  him,  because  she  had  beaten  Annie) ;  "after 
all  we  have  done  for  thee,  and  saved  thy  worthless  neck — 
and  to  try  to  kill  my  son  for  me!  Never  more  shall  horse 
of  thine  enter  stable  here,  since  these  be  thy  returns  to  me. 
Small  thanks  to  you,  John  Fry,  I  say,  and  you  Dadds,  and 
you  Jam  Slocomb,  and  all  the  rest  of  vour  coward  lot; 
much  you  care  for  your  master^s  son!  Afraid  of  that  ugly 
beast  yourselves,  and  you  put  a  boy  just  breeched  upon 
him!" 

"Wull,  missus,  what  could  us  do?"  began  John;  "Jan 
wudd  goo,  now  wudd't  her,  Jem?    And  how  was  us " 

"Jan,  indeed!  Master  John,  if  you  please,  to  a  lad  of 
his  years  and  stature.  And  now,  Tom  Faggus,  be  off,  if 
you  please,  and  think  yourself  lucky  to  go  so;  and  if  ever 
that  horse  comes  into  our  yard,  FU  hamstring  him  myself, 
if  none  of  my  cowards  dare  do  it." 

Everybody  looked  at  mother,  to  hear  her  talk  like  that, 
knowing  how  quiet  she  was  day  by  day,  and  how  pleasant 
to  be  cheated.  And  the  men  began  to  shoulder  their 
shovels,  both  so  as  to  be  away  from  her,  and  to  go  and  tell 
their  wives  of  it.  Winnie,  too,  was  looking  at  her  being 
pointed  at  so  much,  and  wondering  if  she  had  done  amiss. 
And  then  she  came  to  me,  and  trembled,  and  stooped  her 
head,  and  asked  my  pardon,  if  she  had  been  too  proud  with 
me. 

"Winnie  shall  stop  here  tonight,"  said  I,  for  Tom 
Faggus  still  said  never  a  word  all  the  while,  but  began  to 
buckle  his  things  on;  for  he  knew  that  women  are  to  be 
met  with  wool,  as  the  cannon-balls  were  at  the  siege  of 
Tiverton  Castle;  "  mother,  I  tell  you  Winnie  shall  stop, 
else  I  will  go  away  with  her.  I  never  knew  what  it  was, 
till  now,  to  ride  a  horse  worth  riding." 

"  Young  man,"  said  Tom  Faggus,  still  preparing 
sternly  to  depart,  "you  know  more  about  a  horse  than 
any  man  on  Exmoor.  Your  mother  may  well  be  proud 
of  you,  but  she  need  have  had  no  fear.  As  if  I,  Tom 
Faggus,  your  father's  cousin — and  the  only  thing  I  am 


TOM  DE8ER  VES  HIS  SUPPER.  83 

proud  of — would  ever  have  let  you  mount  my  mare,  which 
dukes  and  princes  have  vainly  sought,  except  for  the  cour- 
age in  your  eyes,  and  the  look  of- your  father  about  you.  I 
knew  you  could  ride  when  I  saw  you,  and  rarely  you  have 
conquered.  But  women  don't  understand  us.  Good  by, 
John;  I  am  proud  of  you,  and  I  hoped  to  have  done  your 
pleasure.  And  indeed  I  came  full  of  some  courtly  tales, 
that  would  have  made  your  hair  stand  up.  But  though 
not  a  crust  I  have  tasted  since  this  time  yesterday,  having 
given  my  meat  to  a  widow,  I  will  go  and  starve  on  the 
moor,  far  sooner  than  eat  the  hest  supper  that  ever  was 
cooked  in  a  place  that  has  forgotten  me."  With  that  he 
fetclied  a  heavy  sigh,  as  if  it  had  been  for  my  father;  and 
feebly  got  upon  Winnie's  back,  and  she  came  to  say  fare- 
well to  me.  He  lifted  his  hat  to  my  mother  with  a  glance 
of  sorrow,  but  never  a  word;  and  to  me  he  said,  "  Open 
the  gate,  Cousin  John,  if  you  please.  You  have  beaten 
her  so,  that  she  cannot  leap  it,  poor  thing." 

But  before  he  was  truly  gone  out  of  our  yard,  my 
mother  came  softly  after  him,  with  her  afternoon  apron 
across  her  eyes,  and  one  hand  ready  to  offer  him. 
Nevertheless,  he  made  as  if  he  had  not  seen  her,  though  he 
let  his  horse  go  slowly. 

"Stop,  Cousin  Tom,"  my  mother  said,  "a  word  with 
you  before  you  go." 

"Why,  bless  my  heart!"  Tom  Faggus  cried,  with  the 
form  of  his  countenance  so  changed,  that  I  verily  thought 
another  man  must  have  leaped  into  his  clothes — "  do  I  see 
my  cousin  Sarah?  I  thought  every  one  was  ashamed  of 
me,  and  afraid  to  offer  me  shelter,  since  I  lost  my  best 
cousin,  John  Ridd.  *  Come  here,'  he  used  to  say,  *  Tom, 
come  here,  when  you  are  worried,  and  my  wife  shall  take 

food  care  of  you.'  '  Yes,  dear  John,'  I  used  to  answer,  *  I 
now  she  promised  my  mother  so;  but  people  have  taken 
to  think  against  me,  and  so  might  Cousin  Sarah.'  Ah,  he 
was  a  man,  a  man!  If  you  only  heard  how  ho  answered 
me.  But  let  that  go,  I  am  nothing  now  since  the  day  I 
lost  Cousin  Ridd."  And  with  that  he  began  to  push  on 
again;  but  mother  would  not  have  it  so. 

"  Oh,  Tom,  that  was  a  loss,  indeed.  And  I  am  nothing 
either.  And  you  should  try  to  allow  for  me;  though  I 
never  found  any  one  that  did."    And  mother  began  to  cry. 


84  LORNA  BOONE, 

though  father  had  been  dead  so  long;  and  I  looked  on  with 
a  stupid  surprise,  having  stopped  from  crying  long  ago. 

J*  I  can  tell  you  one  that  will,"  cried  Tom,  jumping  off 
Winnie  in  a  thrice,  and  looking  kindly  at  mother;  *'  I  can 
allow  for  you,  Cousin  Sarah,  in  everything  but  one.  I  am 
in  some  ways  a  bad  man  myself;  but  I  know  the  value  of 

a  good  one;  and  if  you  gave  me  orders,  by  God "    And 

he  shook  his  fists  toward  Bagworthy  Wood,  just  heaving 
up  black  in  the  sundown. 

**Hush,  Tom,  hush,  for  God's  sake!"  And  mother 
meant  me,  without  pointing  at  me;  at  least  I  thought  she 
did.  For  she  ever  had  weaned  me  from  thoughts  of 
revenge,  and  even  from  longings  for  judgment.  **God 
knows  best,  boy,"  she  used  to  say,  "  let  us  wait  his  time, 
without  wishing  it."  And  so,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  did; 
partly  through  her  teaching,  and  partly  through  my  own 
mild  temper,  and  my  knowledge  that  father,  after  all,  was 
killed  because  he  had  thrashed  them. 

"  Good-night,  Cousin  Sarah;  good-night.  Cousin  Jack," 
cried  Tom,  taking  to  the  mare  again;  "  many  a  mile  I 
have  to  ride,  and  not  a  bit  inside  of  me.  No  food  or 
shelter  this  side  of  Exeford,  and  the  night  will  be  black  as 
pitch,  I  trow.  But  it  serves  me  right  for  indulging  the 
lad,  being  taken  with  his  looks  so." 

'*  Cousin  Tom,"  said  mother,  and  trying  to  get  so  that 
Annie  and  I  could  hear  her;  *'  it  would  be  a  sad  and  un- 
kinlike  thing  for  you  to  despise  our  dwelling-house.  We  can- 
not entertain  you  as  the  lordly  inns  on  the  road  do,  and  we 
have  small  change  of  victuals.  But  the  men  will  go  home, 
being  Saturday;  and  so  you  will  have  the  fireside  all  to 
yourself  and  the  children.  There  are  some  few  collops  of 
red  deer's  flesh,  and  a  ham  just  down  from  the  chimnev, 
and  some  dried  salmon  from  Lynmouth  weir,  and  cold 
roast  pig  and  some  oysters.  And  if  none  of  those  be  to 
your  liking,  we  could  roast  two  woodcocks  in  half  an  hour, 
and  Annie  would  make  the  toast  for  them.  And  the  good 
folk  made  some  mistake  last  week,  going  up  the  country, 
and  left  a  keg  of  old  Holland  cordial  in  the  coving  of  the 
wood-rick,  having  borrowed  our  Smiler,  without  asking 
leave.  I  fear  there  is  something  unrighteous  about  it. 
But  what  can  a  poor  widow  do?  John  Fry  would  have 
taken  it,  but  for  our  Jack.  Our  Jack  was  a  little  too 
sharp  for  him." 


TOM  DESER  VE8  BIS  SUPPER.  85 

*'Ay,  that  I  was;  John  Fry  liad  got  it,  like  a  billet 
under  his  apron,  going  away  in  the  gray  of  the  morning, 
as  if  to  kindle  his  fire-place.  '  Why,  John/  I  said, 
'what  a  heavy  log!  Let  me  have  one  end  of  it/ 
*Thank'e,  Jan,  no  need  of  thiccy,'  he  answered,  turning 
his  back  to  me;  *  waife  wanted  a  log  as  will  last  all  day, 
to  kape  the  crock  a  zimmerin/  And  he  banged  his  gate 
upon  my  heels  to  make  me  stop  and  rub  them.  *  Why, 
John,'  said  I,  *^you'm  got  a  log  with  round  holes  in  the 
end  of  it.  Who  has  been  cutting  gun- wads?  Just  lift 
your  apron,  or  I  will.'" 

But  to  return  to  Tom  Faggus — he  stopped  to  sup  that 
night  with  us,  and  took  a  little  of  everything;  a  few  oysters 
first,  and  then  dried  salmon,  and  then  ham  and  eggs,  done 
in  small  curled  rashers,  and  then  a  few  collops  of  venison 
toasted,  and  next  to  that  a  little  cold  roast  pi^,  and  a  wood- 
cock on  toast  to  finish  with,  before  the  Scneidam  and  hot 
water.  And  having  changed  his  wet  things  first,  he  seemed 
to  be  in  fair  appetite,  and  praised  Annie's  cooking 
mightily,  with  a  kind  of  noise  like  a  smack  of  his  lips,  and 
a  rubbing  of  his  hands  together,  whenever  he  could  spare 
them. 

He  had  gotten  John  Fry's  best  small  clothes  on,  for  he 
said  he  was  not  good  enough  to  go  into  my  father's  (which 
mother  kept  to  look  at),  nor  man  enough  to  fill  them. 
And  in  truth  my  mother  was  very  glad  that  he  refused 
when  I  offered  them.  But  John  was  overproud  to  have  it 
in  his  power  to  say  that  such  a  famous  man  had  ever  dwelt 
in  any  clothes  of  his;  and  afterward  he  made  a  show  of 
them.  For  Mr.  Faggus'  glory,  then,  though  not  so  great 
as  now  it  is,  was  spreading  very  fast  indeed  all  about  our 
neighborhood,  and  even  as  far  as  Bridgewater. 

Tom  Faggus  was  a  jovial  soul,  if  ever  there  has  been  one, 
not  making  bones  of  little  things,  nor  caring  to  seek  evil. 
There  was  about  him  such  a  love  of  genuine  human  nature, 
that  if  a  traveler  said  a  good  thing,  he  would  give  him 
back  his  purse  again.  It  is  true  that  he  took  people's 
money  more  by  force  than  fraud;  and  the  law  (being  used 
to  the  inverse  method)  was  bitterly  moved  against  him, 
although  he  could  quote  precedent.  These  things  I  do  not 
understand;  having  seen  so  much  of  robbery  (some  legal,  some 
illegal),  that  I  scarcely  know,  as  here  we  say,  one  crow's- 


86  LORNA  DOON^. 

foot  from  the  other.  It  is  beyond  me,  and  above  me,  to 
discuss  these  subjects;  and  in  truth  I  love  the  law  right 
well,  when  it  doth  support  me,  and  when  I  can  lay  it  down 
to  my  liking,  with  prejudice  to  nobody.  Loyal,  too,  to 
the  King  am  I,  as  behooves  a  church- warden;  and  ready  to 
make  the  best  of  him,  as  he  generally  requires.  But  after 
all,  I  could  not  see  (until  I  grew  much  older  and  came  to 
have  some  property)  why  Tom  Faggus,  working  hard,  was 
called  a  robber,  and  felon  of  great;  while  the  King,  doing 
nothing  at  all  (as  became  his  dignity),  was  liege  lord,  and 
paramount  owner;  with  everybody  to  thank  him  kindly 
for  accepting  tribute. 

For  the  present,  however,  I  learned  nothing  more  as  to 
what  our  cousin's  profession  was,  only  that  mother  seemed 
frightened,  and  whispered  to  him  now  and  then  not  to 
talk  of  something,  because  of  the  children  being  there; 
whereupon  he  always  nodded  with  a  sage  expression,  and 
applie.d  himself  to  hollands. 

'^Now  let  us  go  and  see  Winnie,  Jack,''  he  said  to  mo 
after  supper;  "for  the  most  part  I  feed  her  before  myself; 
but  she  was  so  hot  from  the  way  you  drove  her.  Now  she 
must  be  grieving  for  me,  and  I  never  let  her  grieve  long." 

I  was  too  glad  to  go  with  him,  and  Annie  came  slyly 
after  us.  The  filly  was  walking  to  and  fro  on  the  naked 
floor  of  the  stable  (for  he  would  not  let  her  have  any  straw, 
until  he  should  make  a  bed  for  her),  and  without  so  much 
as  a  headstall  on,  for  he  would  not  have  her  fastened. 
"Do  you  take  my  mare  for  a  dog?"  he  had  said,  when 
John  Fry  brought  him  a  halter.  And  now  she  ran  to  him 
like  a  child,  and  her  great  eyes  shone  at  the  lantern. 

"  Hit  me.  Jack,  and  see  what  she  will  do.  I  will  not 
let  her  hurt  thee."  He  was  rubbing  her  ears  all  the  time 
he  spoke,  and  she  was  leaning  against  him.  Then  I  made 
believe  to  strike  him,  and  in  a  moment  she  caught  me  by 
the  waistband,  and  lifted  me  clean  from  the  ground,  and 
was  casting  me  down  to  trample  upon  me,  when  he  stopped 
her  suddenly. 

"  What  think  you  of  that,  boy?  Have  you  horse  or 
dog  that  would  do  that  for  you?  Ay,  and  more  than  that 
she  will  do.  If  I  were  to  whistle  by-and-by  in  the  tone 
that  tells  my  danger,  she  would  break  this  stable  door 
down,  and  rush  into  the  room  to  me.    Nothing  will  keep 


TOM  DE8ER  VE8  HIS  S  UPPER.  87 

her  from  me  then,  stone-wall  or  church-tower.  Ah, 
Winnie,  Winnie,  you  little  witch,  we  shall  die  to- 
gether." 

Then  he  turned  away  with  a  joke,  and  began  to  feed 
her  nicely,  for  she  was  very  dainty.  Not  a  husk  of  oat 
would  she  touch  that  had  been  under  the  breath  of 
another  horse,  however  hungry  she  might  be.  And  with 
her  oats  he  mixed  some  powder,  fetching  it  from  his 
saddle-bags.  What  this  was  I  could  not  guess,  neither 
would  he  tell  me,  but  laughed  and  called  it  '^star-shav- 
ings." He  watched  her  eat  every  morsel  of  it,  with  two 
or  three  drinks  of  pure  water,  ministered  between  whiles; 
and  then  he  made  her  bed  in  a  form  I  had  never  seen 
before,  and  so  we  said  ''^ good-night"  to  her. 

Afterward  by  the  fireside  he  kept  us  very  merry,  sitting 
in  the  great  chimney-corner,  and  making  us  play  games 
with  him.  And  all  the  while  he  was  smoking  tobacco  in 
a  manner  I  never  had  seen  before,  not  using  any  pipe  for 
it,  but  having  it  rolled  in  little  sticks  about  as  long  as  my 
finger,  blunt  at  one  end  and  sharp  at  the  other.  The 
sharp  end  he  would  put  in  his  mouth,  and  lay  a  brand  of 
wood  to  the  other,  and  then  draw  a  white  cloud  of  curling 
smoke,  and  we  never  tired  of  watching  him.  I  wanted 
him  to  let  me  do  it,  but  he  said,  "  No,  my  son;  it  is  not 
meant  for  boys."  Then  Annie  put  up  her  lips  and  asked, 
with  both  hands  on  his  knees  (for  she  had  taken  to  him 
wonderfully),  *^Is  it  meant  for  girls,  then.  Cousin  Tom?" 
But  she  had  better  not  have  asked,  for  he  gave  it  her  to 
try,  and  she  shut  both  eyes  and  sucked  at  it.  One 
breath,  however,  was  quite  enough,  for  it  made  her  cough 
so  violently  that  Lizzie  and  I  must  thump  her  back  until 
she  vv'as  almost  crying.  To  atone  for  that.  Cousin  Tom 
set  to,  and  told  us  whole  pages  of  stories,  not  about  his 
own  doings  at  all;  but  strangely  enough  they  seemed  to 
concern  almost  every  one  else  we  had  ever  heard  of.  With- 
out halting  once  for  a  word  or  deed,  his  tales  flowed 
onward  as  freely  and  brightly  as  the  flames  of  the  wood 
up  the  chimney,  and  with  no  smaller  variety.  For  he 
spoke  with  the  voices  of  twenty  people,  giving  each 
person  the  proper  manner,  and  the  proper  place  to  speak 
from;  so  that  Annie  and  Lizzie  ran  all  about,  and  searched 
the  clock  and  the  linen-press.     And  he  changed  his  face 


88     .  LORNA  BOONE. 

every  moment  so,  and  with  such  power  of  mimicry  that, 
without  so  much  as  a  smile  of  his  own,  he  made  even 
mother  laugh  so  that  she  broke  her  new  tenpenny  waist- 
band; and  as  for  us  children,  we  rolled  on  the  floor,  and 
Betty  Muxworthy  roared  in  the  wash-up. 


A  MAN  JUSTL  Y  POP  ULAR.  89 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  MAN  JUSTLY   POPULAR. 

Now,  although  Mr.  Faggus  was  so  clever,  and  generous, 
and  celebrated,  I  know  not  whether,  upon  the  whole,  we 
were  rather  proud  of  him  as  a  member  of  our  family,  or 
inclined  to  be  ashamed  of  him.  And  indeed  I  think  that 
the  sway  of  the  balance  hung  upon  the  company  we  were 
in.  For  instance,  with  the  boys  at  Brendon — for  there  is 
no  village  at  Oare — I  was  exceeding  proud  to  talk  of  him, 
and  would  freely  brag  of  my  cousin  Tom.  But  with  the 
rich  parsons  of  the  neighborhood,  or  the  justices  (who 
came  round  now  and  then,  and  were  glad  to  ride  up  to  a 
warm  farm-house),  or  even  the  well-to-do  tradesmen  of 
Porlock — in  a  word,  any  settled  power,  which  was  afraid 
of  losing  things — with  all  of  them  we  were  very  shy  of 
claiming  our  kinship  to  that  great  outlaw. 

And  sure,  I  should  pity  as  well  as  condemn  him,  though 
our  ways  in  the  world  were  so  different,  knowing  as  I  do 
his  story;  which  knowledge,  methinks,  would  often  lead  us 
to  let  alone  God's  prerogative — judgment,  and  hold  by 
man's  privilege — pity.  Not  that  I  would  find  excuse  for 
Tom's  downright  dishonesty,  which  was,  beyond  doubt,  a 
disgrace  to  him,  and  no  credit  to  his  kinsfolk;  only  that  it 
came  about  without  his  meaning  any  harm,  or  seeing  how 
he  took  to  wrong,  yet  gradually  knowing  it.  And  now,  to 
save  any  further  trouble,  and  to  meet  those  who  disparage 
him  (without  allowance  for  the  time,  or  the  crosses  laid 
upon  him),  I  will  tell  the  history  of  him,  just  as  if 
he  were  not  my  cousin,  and  hoping  to  be  heeded.  And  I 
defy  any  man  to  say  that  a  word  of  this  is  either  false,  or 
in  any  way  colored  by  family.  Much  cause  he  had 
to  be  harsh  with  the  world;  and  yet  all  acknowledged  him 
very  pleasant,  when  a  man  gave  up  his  money.  And  often 
and  often  he  paid  the  toll  for  the  carriage  coming  after 


90  LORNA  DOCNE. 

him,  because  he  had  emptied  their  pockets,  and  would  not 
add  inconvenience.  By  trade  he  had  been  a  blacksmith, 
in  the  town  of  Northmolten,  in  Devonshire,  a  rough,  rude 
place  at  the  end  of  Exmoor;  so  that  many  people  marveled 
if  such  a  man  was  bred  there.  Not  only  could  he  read 
and  write,  but  he  had  solid  substance;  a  piece  of  land 
worth  a  hundred  pounds,  and  right  of  common  for  two 
hundred  sheep,  and  a  score  and  a  half  of  beasts,  lifting  up 
or  lying  down.  And  being  left  an  orphan  (with  all  these 
cares  upon  him)  he  began  to  work  right  earl  ,  and  made 
such  a  fame  at  shoeing  of  horses  that  the  farriers  of  Barum 
were  like  to  lose  their  custom.  And  indeed  he  won  a 
golden  Jacobus  for  the  best-shod  nag  in  the  north  of 
Devon,  and  some  say  that  he  never  was  forgiven. 

As  to  that,  I  know  no  more,  except  that  nren  are  jealous. 
But  whether  it  were  that  or  not,  he  fell  into  bitter  trouble 
within  a  month  of  his  victory;  when  his  trade  was  grow- 
ing upon  him,  and  his  sweatheart  ready  to  marry  him. 
For  he  loved  a  maid  of  Southmolton  (a  currier's  daughter, 
I  think  she  was,  and  her  name  was  Betsy  Paramore),  and 
her  father  had  given  consent;  and  Tom  Faggus,  wishing 
to  look  his  best,  and  be  clean,  of  course,  had  a  tailor  at 
work  upstairs  for  him,  who  had  come  all  the  way  from 
Exeter.  And  Betsy's  things  were  ready  too — for  which 
they  accused  him  afterward,  as  if  he  could  help  that — 
when  suddenly,  like  a  thunder-bolt,  a  lawyer's  writ  fell 
upon  him. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a  lawsuit  with  Sir  Robert 
Bampfylde,  a  gentleman  of  the  neighborhood,  who  tried  to 
oust  him  from  his  common,  and  drove  his  cattle  and  har- 
assed them.  And  by  that  suit  of  law  poor  Tom  was  ruined 
altogether,  for  Sir  Robert  could  pay  for  much  swearing; 
and  then  all  his  goods  and  his  farm  were  sold  up,  and  even 
his  smithery  taken.  But  he  saddled  his  horse,  before  they 
could  catch  him,  and  rode  away  to  Southmolton,  looking 
more  like  a  madman  than  a  good  farrier,  as  the  people  said 
who  saw  him.  But  when  he  arrived  there,  instead  of  com- 
fort, they  showed  him  the  face  of  the  door  alone;  for  the 
news  of  his  loss  was  before  him,  and  Master  Paramore  was 
a  sound,  prudent  man.  and  a  high  member  of  the  town 
council.  It  is  said  that  they  even  gave  him  notice  to  pay 
for  Betsy's  wedding-clothes,  now  that  he  was  too  poor  to 


A  MAN  JUSTL  T  POP ULAR.  91 

marry  her.  This  may  be  false,  and,  indeed,  I  doubt  it;  in 
the  first  place,  because  Southmolten  is  a  busy  place  for 
talking;  and  in  the  next,  that  I  do  not  think  the  action 
would  have  lain  at  law,  especially  as  the  maid  lost  nothing, 
but  used  it  all  for  her  wedding  next  month  with  Dick  Vel- 
lacott,  of  Mockham. 

All  this  was  very  sore  upon  Tom;  and  he  took  it  to  heart 
so  grievously,  that  he  said,  as  a  better  man  might  have  said, 
being  loose  of  mind  and  property,  **The  world  hath  preyed 
on  me  like  a  wolf.  God  help  me  now  to  prey  on  "the 
world.'^ 

And,  in  sooth,  it  did  seem  for  a  while  as  if  Providence 
were  with  him,  for  he  took  rare  toll  on  the  highway,  and 
his  name  was  soon  as  good  as  gold  anywhere  this  side  of 
Bristowe.  His  studied  his  business  by  night  and  by  day, 
with  three  horses  all  in  hard  work,  until  he  had  made  a 
fine  reputation;  and  then  it  was  competent  to  him  to  rest, 
and  he  had  plenty  left  for  charity.  And  I  ought  to  say 
for  society,  too,  for  he  truly  loved  high  society,  treating 
squires  and  noblemen  (who  much  affected  his  company)  to 
the  very  best  fare  of  the  hostel.  And  they  say  that  once  the 
King's  Justiciaries,  being  upon  circuit,  accepted  his  invi- 
tation, declaring  merrily  that  if  never  true  bill  had  been 
found  against  him,  mine  host  should  now  be  qualified  to 
draw  one.  And  so  the  landlords  did;  and  he  always  paid 
them  handsomely,  so  that  all  of  them  were  kind  to  him, 
and  contented  for  his  visits.  Let  it  be  known  in  any  town- 
ship that  Mr.  Faggus  was  taking  his  leisure  at  the  inn,  and 
straightway  all  the  men  flocked  thither  to  drink  his  health 
without  outlay,  and  all  the  women  to  admire  him;  while 
the  children  were  set  at  the  cross-roads  to  give  warning  of 
any  officers. 

One  of  his  earliest  meetings  was  with  Sir  Robert  Bamp- 
fylde  himself,  who  was  riding  along  the  Barum  road  with 
only  one  serving-man  after  him.  Tom  Faggus  put  a  pistol 
to  his  head,  being  then  obliged  to  be  violent,  through  want 
of  reputation;  while  the  serving-man  pretended  to  be  a 
long  way  round  the  corner.  Then  the  baronet  pulled  out 
his  purse,  quite  trembling  in  the  hurry  of  his  politeness. 
Tom  took  the  purse,  and  his  ring,  and  time-piece,  and 
then  handed  them  back  with  a  very  low  bow,  saying  that 
it  was  against  all  usage  for  him  to  rob  a  robber.     Then  he 


92  LOBNA  DOONE, 

turned  to  the  unfaithful  knave,  and  trounced  him  right 
well  for  his  cowardice,  and  stripped  him  of  all  his  property. 

But  now  Mr.  Faggus  kept  only  one  horse,  lest  the  Gov- 
ernment should  steal  them;  and  that  one  was  the  young 
mare  Winnie.  How  he  came  by  her  he  never  would  tell, 
but  I  think  that  she  was  presented  to  him  by  a  certain 
colonel,  a  lover  of  sport,  and  very  clever  horse-flesh,  whose 
life  Tom  had  saved  from  some  gamblers.  When  I  have 
added  that  Faggus  as  yet  had  never  been  guilty  of  blood- 
shed (for  his  eyes  and  the  click  of  his  pistol  at  first,  and 
now  his  high  reputation,  made  all  his  wishes  respected), 
and  that  he  never  robbed  a  poor  man,  neither  insulted  a 
woman,  but  was  very  good  to  the  church,  and  of  hot 
patriotic  opinions,  and  full  of  jest  and  jollity,  I  have  said 
as  much  as  is  fair  for  him,  and  shown  why  he  was  so 
popular.  Every  body  cursed  the  Doones,  who  lived  apart 
disdainfully.  But  all  good  people  liked  Mr.  Faggus — 
when  he  had  not  robbed  them — and  many  a  poor  sick  man 
or  woman  blessed  him  for  other  people's  money;  and  all 
the  hostlers,  stable-boys,  and  tapsters  entirely  worshiped 
him. 

I  have  been  rather  long,  and  perhaps  tedious,  in  my 
account  of  him,  lest  at  any  time  hereafter  his  character 
should  be  misunderstood,  and  his  good  name  disparaged; 
whereas  he  was  my  second  cousin,  and  the  lover  of  my — 
but  let  that  bide.     'Tis  a  melancholy  story. 

He  came  again  about  three  months  afterward,  in  the  be- 
ginning of  the  spring-time,  and  brought  me  a  beautiful 
new  carbine,  having  learned  my  love  of  such  things,  and 
my  great  desire  to  shoot  straight.  But  mother  would  not 
let  me  have  the  gun,  until  he  averred  upon  his  honor  that 
he  had  bought  it  honestly.  And  so  he  had,  no  doubt,  so 
far  as  it  is  honest  to  buy  with  money  acquired  rampantly. 
Scarce  could  I  stop  to  make  my  bullets  in  the  mold  which 
came  along  with  it,  but  must  be  off  to  the  Quarry  hill,  and 
new  target  I  had  made  there.  And  he  taught  me  then 
how  to  ride  bright  Winnie,  who  was  grown  since  I  had  seen 
her,  but  remembered  me  most  kindly.  After  making 
much  of  Annie,  who  had  a  wondrous  liking  for  him — and 
he  said  he  was  her  godfather,  but  God  knows  how  he  could 
have  been,  unless  they  confirmed  him  precociously — away 
he  went,  and  young  Winnie's  sides  shone  like  a  cherry  by 
candle-light. 


A  MAN  JUSTL  T  POP  ULAR.  93 

Now  I  feel  that  of  tliose  boyish  days  I  have  little 
more  to  tell,  because  everything  went  quietly,  as  the  world 
for  tlie  most  part  does  with  us.  I  began  to  work  at  the 
farm  in  earnest,  and  tried  to  help  my  mother,  and  when  I 
remembered  Lorna  Doone,  it  seemed  no  more  than  the 
thought  of  a  dream  which  I  could  hardly  call  to  mind. 
Now  who  cares  to  know  how  many  bushels  of  wheat  we 
grew  to  the  acre,  or  how  the  cattle  milched  till  we  ate  them, 
or  what  the  turn  of  the  seasons  was?  But  my  stupid  self 
seemed  like  to  be  the  biggest  of  all  the  cattle,  for  having 
much  to  look  after  the  sheep,  and  being  always  in  kind  ap- 
petite, I  grew  four  inches  longer  in  every  year  of  my  farm- 
ing, and  a  matter  of  two  inches  wider,  until  there  was  no 
man  of  my  size  to  be  seen  elsewhere  upon  Exmoor.  Let 
that  pass:  what  odds  to  any  how  tall  or  wide  1  be?  There 
is  no  Doone's  door  at  Plover's  Barrows,  and  if  there  were  I 
could  never  go  through  it.  They  vexed  me  so  much  about 
itiy  size,  long  before  I  had  completed  it,  girding  at  me  with 
paltry  jokes  whose  wit  was  good  only  to  stay  at  home,  that 
I  grew  shamefaced  about  the  matter,  and  feared  to  encoun- 
ter a  looking-glass.  But  mother  was  very  proud,  and  said 
she  never  could  have  too  much  of  me. 

The  worst  of  all  to  make  me  ashamed  of  bearing  my  head 
so  high — a  thing  I  saw  no  way  to  help,  for  I  never  could 
hang  my  chin  down,  and  my  back  was  like  a  gate-post 
whenever  I  tried  to  bend  it — the  worst  of  all  was  our  little 
Eliza,  who  never  could  come  to  a  size  herself,  though  she 
had  the  wine  from  the  Sacrament  at  Easter  and  Allhallow- 
mas,  only  to  be  small  and  skinny,  sharp,  and  clever  crook- 
edly. Not  that  her  body  was  out  of  the  straight  (being 
too  small  for  that,  perhaps),  but  that  her  wit  was  full  of 
corners,  jagged  and  strange,  and  uncomfortable:  You 
never  could  tell  what  she  might  say  next;  and  I  like  not 
that  kind  of  woman.  Now  God  forgive  me  for  talking  so 
of  my  own  father's  daughter:  and  so  much  the  more  by 
reason  that  my  father  could  not  help  it.  The  right  way  is 
to  face  the  matter,  and  then  be  sorry  for  every  one.  My 
mother  fell  grievously  on  a  slide,  which  John  Fry  had 
made  nigh  the  apple-room  door,  and  hidden  with  straw 
from  the  stable,  to  cover  his  own  great  idleness.  My 
father  laid  John's  nose  on  the  ice,  and  kept  him  warm  in 
spite  of  it;  but  it  was  too  late  for  Eliza.     She  was  born 


94  LORNA  BOONE, 

next  day  with  more  mind  than  body — the  worst  thing  that 
can  befall  a  man. 

But  Annie,  my  other  sister,  was  now  a  fine  fair  girl, 
beautiful  to  behold.  I  could  look  at  her  by  the  fireside  for 
an  hour  together,  when  I  was  not  too  sleepy,  and  think  of 
my  dear  father.  And  she  would  do  the  same  thing  by  me, 
only  wait  the  between  of  the  blazes.  Her  hair  was  done 
up  in  a  knot  behind,  but  some  would  fall  over  her  shoul- 
ders; and  the  dancing  of  the  light  was  sweet  to  see  through 
a  man^s  eyelashes.  There  never  was  a  face  that  showed 
the  light  or  the  shadow  of  feeling,  as  if  the  heart  was  sun 
to  it,  more  than  our  dear  Annie^s  did.  To  look  at  her 
carefully,  you  might  think  that  she  was  not  dwelling  on 
anything;  and  then  she  would  know  you  were  looking  at 
her,  and  those  eyes  would  tell  all  about  it.  God  knows  that 
I  try  to  be  simple  enough,  to  keep  to  his  meaning  in  me, 
and  not  make  the  worst  of  his  children.  Yet  often  have  I 
been  put  to  shame,  and  ready  to  bite  my  tongue  off,  after 
speaking  amiss  of  anybody,  and  letting  out  my  littleness, 
when  suddenly  mine  eyes  have  met  the  pure,  soft  gaze  of 
Annie. 

As  for  the  Doones,  they  were  thriving  still,  and  no  one 
to  come  against  them,  except  indeed  by  word  of  mouth,  to 
which  they  lent  no  heed  whatever.  Complaints  were  made 
from  time  to  time,  both  in  high  and  low  quarters  (as  the 
rank  might  be  of  the  people  robbed),  and  once  or  twice  in 
the  highest  of  all,  to-wit,  the  King  himself.  But  his 
majesty  made  a  good  joke  about  it  (not  meaning  any  harm, 
I  doubt),  and  was  so  much  pleased  with  himself  thereupon, 
that  he  quite  forgave  himself  the  mischief.  Moreover,  the 
main  authorities  were  a  long  way  off;  and  the  Chancellor 
had  no  cattle  on  Exmoor;  and  as  for  my  lord  the  Chief- 
justice,  some  rogue  had  taken  his  silver  spoons;  whereupon 
his  lordship  swore  that  never  another  man  would  he  hang 
until  he  had  that  one  by  the  neck.  Therefore  the  Doones 
went  on  as  they  listed,  and  none  saw  fit  to  meddle  with 
them.  For  the  only  man  who  would  have  dared  to  come 
to  close  quarters  with  them,  that  is  to  say,  Tom  Faggus, 
himself  was  a  quarry  for  the  law,  if  ever  it  should  be  un- 
hooded.  Moreover,  he  had  transferred  his  business  to  the 
neighborhood  of  Wantage,  in  the  county  of  Berks,  where 
he  found  the  climate  drier,  also  good  downs,  and  commons 


A  MAN  JU8TL  T  POP  ULAR.  95 

excellent  for  galloping,  and  richer  yeoman  than  ours  be, 
and  better  roads  to  rob  them  on. 

Some  folk,  who  had  been  wiser  attended  to  their  own 
affairs,  said  that  I  (being  sizable  now,  and  able  to  shoot  not 
badly)  ought  to  do  something  against  those  Doones,  and 
show  what  I  was  made  of.  But  for  a  time  I  was  very 
bashful,  shaking  when  called  upon  suddenly,  and  blushing 
as  deep  as  a  maiden;  for  my  strength  was  not  come  upon 
me,  and  mayhap  I  had  grown  in  front  of  it.  And  again, 
though  I  loved  my  father  still,  and  would  fire  at  a  word 
about  him,  I  saw  not  how  it  would  do  him  good  for  me  to 
harm  his  injurers.  Some  races  are  of  revengeful  kind, 
and  will  for  years  pursue  their  wrong,  and  sacrifice  this 
world  and  the  next  for  a  moment's  foul  satisfaction;  but 
methinks  this  comes  of  some  black  blood,  perverted  and 
never  purified.  And  I  doubt  but  men  of  true  English 
birth  are  stouter  than  so  to  be  twisted,  though  some  of  the 
women  may  take  that  turn,  if  their  own  life  runs  unkindl3\ 

Let  that  pass — I  am  never  good  at  talking  of  things 
beyond  me.  All  1  know  is,  that  if  I  had  met  a  Doonewho 
had  killed  my  father,  I  would  gladly  have  thrashed  him 
black  and  blue,  supposing  I  were  able;  but  would  never 
have  fired  a  gun  at  him  unless  he  began  that  game  with  me, 
or  fell  upon  more  of  my  family,  or  were  violent  among 
women.  And  to  do  thom  justice,  my  mother  and  Annie  were 
equally  kind  and  gentle,  but  Eliza  would  flame  and  grow 
white  with  contempt,  and  not  trust  herself  to  speak  to  us. 

Now  a  strange  thing  came  to  pass  that  winter,  when  I 
was  twenty-one  years  old,  a  very  strange  thing,  which  af- 
frighted the  rest,  and  made  me  feel  uncomfortable.  Not 
that  there  was  anything  in  it  to  do  harm  to  any  one,  only 
that  none  could  explain  it,  except  by  attributing  it  to  the 
devil.  The  weather  was  very  niild  and  open,  and  scarcely 
any  snow  fell;  at  any  rate  none  lay  on  the  ground,  even 
for  an  hour,  in  the  highest  part  of  Exmoor;  a  thing  which 
I  knew  not  before  nor  since,  as  long  as  I  can  remember. 
But  the  nights  were  wonderfully  dark,  as  though  with  no 
stars  in  the  heaven;  and  all  daylong  the  mists  were  rolling 
upon  the  hills  and  down  them,  as  if  the  whole  land  were  a 
wash-house.  The  moor-land  was  full  of  snipes  and  teal, 
and  curlews  flying  and  crying,  and  lapwings  flapping 
heavily,  and  ravens  hovering  round  dead  sheep;   yet  no 


96  LORNA  BOONE, 

red-sliauks  nor  dotterel,  and  scarce  any  golden  plovers  (of 
which  we  have  great  store  generally),  but  vast  lonely  birds, 
that  cried  at  night,  and  moved  the  whole  air  with  their 
pinions;  yet  no  man  ever  saw  them.  It  was  dismal  as  well 
as  dangerous  now  for  any  man  to  go  fowling  (which  of  late 
I  loved  much  in  the  winter),  because  the  fog  would  come 
down  so  thick  that  the  pan  of  the  gun  was  reeking,  and  the 
fowl  out  of  sight  ere  the  powder  kindled,  and  then  the 
sound  of  the  piece  was  so  dead,  that  the  shooter  feared 
harm,  and  glanced  over  his  shoulder.  But  the  danger  of 
course  was  far  less  in  this  than  in  losing  of  the  track,  and 
falling  into  the  mires,  or  over  the  brim  of  a  precipice. 

Nevertheless,  I  must  needs  go  out,  being  young  and  very 
stupid,  and  feared  of  being  afraid — a  fear  which  a  wise 
man  has  long  cast  by,  having  learned  of  the  manifold  dan- 
gers which  ever  and  ever  encompass  us.  And  besides  this 
folly  and  wildness  of  youth,  perchance  there  was  some- 
thing, I  know  not  what,  of  the  joy  we  have  in  uncertainty. 
Mother,  in  fear  of  my  missing  home — though  for  that  mat- 
ter, I  could  smell  supper,  when  hungry,  through  a  hundred 
land-yards  of  fog — my  dear  mother,  wlio  thought  of  me 
ten  times  for  one  thought  about  herself,  gave  orders  to 
ring  the  great  sheep-bell  which  hung  above  the  pigeon- 
cote,  every  ten  minutes  of  the  day;  and  the  sound  came 
through  the  plaits  of  fog,  and  1  was  vexed  about  it,  like 
the  letters  of  a  copy-book.  It  reminded  me,  too,  of  Blun- 
deirs  bell,  and  the  grief  to  go  into  school  again. 

But  during  those  two  months  of  fog  (for  we  had  it  all 
the  winter),  the  saddest  and  the  heaviest  thing  was  to  stand 
beside  the  3ea — to  be  upon  the  beach  yourself,  and  see  the 
long  waves  coming  in;  to  know  that  they  are  long  waves 
but  only  see  a  piece  of  them;  and  to  hear  them  lifting 
roundly,  swelling  over  smooth  green  rocks,  plashing  down 
in  the  hollow  corners,  but  bearing  on  all  the  same  as  ever, 
soft,  and  sleek,  and  sorrowful,  till  their  little  noise  is  over. 

One  old  man  who  lived  at  Lynmouth,  seeking  to  be 
buried  there,  having  been  more  than  half  over  the  world, 
though  shy  to  speak  about  it,  and  fain  to  come  home  to 
his  birth-place,  this  old  Will  Watcombe  (who  dwelt  by  the 
water),  said  that  our  strange  winter  arose  from  a  thing  he 
called  the  "  Gulf  Stream  "  rushing  up  Channel  suddenly. 
He  said  it  was  hot  water,  almost  fit  for  a  man  to  shave 


A  MAN  JU8TL  T  POP  ULAR,  97 

with,  and  it  threw  all  our  cold  water  out,  and  ruined  the 
fish  and  the  spawning-time,  and  a  cold  spring  would 
come  after  it.  I  was  fond  of  going  to  Lynmouth  on 
Sunday  to  hear  this  old  man  talk,  for  sometimes  he  would 
discourse  with  me,  when  nobody  else  could  move  him.  He 
told  me  that  this  powerful  flood  set  in  upon  our  coast  so 
hard,  sometimes  once  in  ten  years,  and  sometimes  not  for 
fifty,  and  the  Lord  only  knew  the  sense  of  it;  but  that  when 
it  came,  therewith  came  warmth,  and  clouds,  and  fog,  and 
moisture,  and  nuts,  and  fruit,  and  even  shells;  and  all  the 
tides  were  thrown  abroad.  As  for  nuts,  he  winked  a  while 
and  chewed  a  piece  of  tobacco;  yet  did  I  not  comprehend 
him.  Only  afterward  I  heard  that  nuts  with  liquid  ker- 
nels came,  traveling  on  the  Gulf  Stream;  for  never  before 
was  known  so  much  foreign  cordial  landed  upon  our  coast, 
floating  ashore  by  mistake  in  the  fog,  and  (what  with  the 
tossing  and  the  mist)  too  much  astray  to  learn  its  duty. 

Folk,  who  are  ever  too  prone  to  talk,  said  that  Will 
Watcombe  himself  knew  better  than  anybody  else  about 
this  drift  of  the  Gulf  Stream,  and  the  places  where  it 
would  come  ashore,  and  the  caves  that  took  the  indraught. 
But  De  Whichehalse,  our  great  magistrate,  certified  that 
there  was  no  proof  of  unlawful  importation;  neither  good 
cause  to  suspect  it,  at  a  time  of  Christian  charity.  And 
we  knew  that  it  was  a  foul  thing  for  some  quarrymen  to 
say  that  night  after  night  they  had  been  digging  a  new 
cellar  at  Ley  Manor  to  hold  the  little  marks  of  respect 
found  in  the  caverns  at  high-water  weed.  Let  that  be:  it 
is  none  of  my  business  to  speak  evil  of  dignities;  only  we 
common  people  joked  of  the  **  Gulp  Stream,"  as  we 
called  it. 

But  the  thing  which  astonished  and  frightened  us  so, 
was  not,  I  do  assure  you,  the  landing  of  foreign  spirits, 
nor  the  loom  of  a  lugger  at  twilight  in  the  gloom  of  the 
winter  moonrise.  That  which  made  us  crouch  in  by  the 
fire,  or  draw  the  bedclothes  over  us,  and  try  to  think  of 
sonietliing  else,  was  a  strange  mysterious  sound. 

At  gray  of  night,  when  the  sun  was  gone,  and  no  red  in 
tlie  west  remained,  neither  were  stars  forthcoming,  sud- 
denly a  wailing  voice  rose  along  the  valleys,  and  a  sound 
in  the  air,  as  of  people  running.  It  mattered  not  whether 
you  stood  on  the  moor,  or  crouched  behind  rocks  away 


9g  LQRNA  BOONE. 

from  it,  or  down  among  reedy  places;  all  as  one  the  sound 
would  come,  now  from  the  heart  of  the  earth  beneath, 
now  overhead  bearing  down  on  you.  And  then  there  was 
rushing  of  something  by,  and  melancholy  laughter,  and 
the  hair  of  man  would  stand  on  end,  before  he  could 
reason  properly. 

God,  in  his  mercy,  knows  that  I  am  stupid  enough  for 
any  man,  and  very  slow  of  impression,  nor  ever,  could 
bring  myself  to  believe  that  our  Father  would  let  the  evil 
one  get  the  upper  hand  of  us.  But  Avhen  I  had  heard 
that  sound  three  times,  in  the  lonely  gloom  of  the  evening 
fog,  and  the  cold  that  followed  the  lines  of  air,  I  was  loath 
to  go  abroad  by  night,  even  so  far  as  the  stables,  and 
loved  the  light  of  a  candle  more,  and  the  glow  of  a  fire 
with  company. 

There  were  many  stories  about  it,  of  course,  all  over  the 
breadth  of  the  moor-land.  But  those  who  had  heard  it 
most  often  declared  that  it  must  be  the  wail  of  a  woman's 
voice,  and  the  rustle  of  robes  fleeing  horribly,  and  fiends 
in  the  fog  going  after  her.  To  that,  however,  I  paid 
no  heed,  and  when  any  body  was  with  me;  only  we  drew 
more  close  together,  and  barred  the  doors  at  sunset. 


MASTER  HUCKABACK  COMES  IN.  99 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

MASTER  HUCKABACK   COMES   IN. 

Mr.  Reuben  Huckaback,  whom  many  good  folk  in  Dul- 
verton  will  remember  long  after  my  time,  was  my  mother's 
Uiicle,  being  indeed  her  mother's  brother.  He  owned  the 
very  best  shop  in  the  town,  and  did  a  fine  trade  in  soft 
ware,  especially  when  the  pack-horses  came  safely  in  at 
Christmas-time.  And  we  being  now  his  only  kindred 
(except,  indeed,  his  granddaughter,  little  Ruth  Hucka- 
back, of  whom  no  one  took  any  heed),  mother  beheld  it  a 
Christian  duty  to  keep  as  well  as  could  be  with  him,  both 
for  love  of  a  nice  old  man,  and  for  the  sake  of  her  children. 
And  truly  the  Dulverton  people  said  that  he  was  the  rich- 
est man  in  their  town,  and  could  buy  up  half  the  country 
armigers;  ay,  and  if  it  came  to  that,  they  would  like  to  see 
any  man,  at  Bampton,  or  at  Wivelscombe,  and  you  might 
say  almost  Taunton,  who  could  put  down  golden  Jacobus 
and  Carolus  against  him. 

Now  this  old  gentleman — so  they  called  him,  according 
to  his  money;  and  I  have  seen  many  worse  ones,  more 
violent  and  less  wealthy — he  must  needs  come  away  that 
time  to  spend  the  New-year-tide  with  us;  not  that  he 
wanted  to  do  it  (for  he  hated  country  life),  but  because 
my  mother  pressing,  as  mothers  will  do  to  a  good  bag  of 
gold,  had  wrung  a  promise  from  him;  and  the  only  boast 
of  his  life  was  that  never  yet  had  he  broken  his  word,  at 
least  since  he  opened  business. 

Now  it  pleased  God  that  Christmas-time  (in  spite  of  all 
the  ^ogs)  to  send  safe  home  to  Dulverton,  and,  what  was 
more,  with  their  loads  quite  safe,  a  goodly  string  of  pack- 
horses.  Nearly  half  of  their  charge  was  for  Uncle  Reuben, 
and  he  knew  how  to  make  the  most  of  it.  Then,  having 
balanced  his  debits  and  credits,  and  set  the  writs  running 
against  defaulters,  as  behooves  a  good  Christian  at  Christ- 


100  LORN  A  DOONE. 

mas-tide,  he  saddled  his  horse,  and  rode  off  toward  Oare, 
with  a  good  stout  coat  upon  him,  and  leaving  Ruth  and 
his  head  man  plenty  to  do,  and  little  to  eat  until  they 
should  see  him  again. 

It  had  been  settled  between  us  that  we  should  expect 
him  soon  after  noon,  on  the  last  day  of  December.  For 
the  Doones  being  lazy  and  fond  of  bed,  as  the  manner  is 
of  dishonest  folk,  the  surest  way  to  escape  them  was  to 
travel  before  they  were  up  and  about,  to-wit,  in  the  fore- 
noon of  the  day.  But  herein  we  reckoned  without  our 
host;  for,  being  in  high  festivity,  as  became  good  Papists, 
the  robbers  were  too  lazy,  it  seems,  to  take  the  trouble  of 
going  to  bed;  and  forth  they  rode  on  the  Old-year  morn- 
ing, not  with  any  view  to  business,  but  purely  in  search  of 
mischief. 

We  had  put  off  our  dinner  till  one  o'clock  (which  to  me 
was  a  sad  foregoing),  and  there  was  to  be  a  brave  supper 
at  six  of  the  clock,  upon  New  Years'  eve;  and  the  singers 
to  come  with  their  lanterns,  and  do  it  outside  the  parlor- 
window,  and  then  have  hot  cup  till  their  heads  should  go 
round,  after  making  away  with  the  victuals.  For  although 
there  was  nobody  now  in  our  family  to  be  church-warden 
of  Oare,  it  was  well  admitted  that  we  were  tlie  people  en- 
titled alone  to  that  dignity;  and  though  Nicholas  Snowe 
was  in  office  by  name,  he  managed  it  only  by  mother's 
advice;  and  a  pretty  mess  he  made  of  it,  so  that  every 
one  longed  for  a  Ridd  again,  soon  as  ever  I  should  be  old 
enough.  This  Nicholas  Snowe  was  to  come  in  the 
evening,  with  his  three  tall,  comely  daughters,  strapping 
girls,  and  well  skilled  in  the  dairy;  and  the  story  was  all 
over  the  parish,  on  a  stupid  conceit  of  John  Fry's,  that  I 
should  have  been  in  love  with  all  three,  if  there  had  been 
but  one  of  them.  These  Snowes  were  to  come,  and  come 
they  did,  partly  because  Mr.  Huckaback  liked  to  see  fine 
young  maidens,  and  partly  because  none  but  Nicholas 
Snowe  could  smoke  a  pipe  now  all  around  our  parts,  except 
of  the  very  high  people,  whom  we  durst  never  invite. 
And  Uncle  Ben,  as  we  all  knew  well,  was  a  great  hand  at 
his  pipe,  and  would  sit  for  hours  over  it,  in  our  warm 
chimney-corner,  and  never  want  to  say  a  word,  unless  it 
were  inside  him;  only  he  liked  to  have  somebody  there 
over  agaJMt  him  smoking. 


MASTER  HUCKABACK  COMJSS  JX.  Wl 

Now  when  I  came  in,  before  one  o'clock,  after  seeing  to 
the  cattle — for  the  day  was  thicker  than  ever,  and  we  must 
keep  the  cattle  close  at  home  if  we  wished  to  see  any  more 
of  them — I  fully  expected  to  find  Uncle  Ben  sitting  in  the 
fire-place,  lifting  one  cover  and  then  another,  as  his  favor- 
ite manner  was,  and  making  sweet  mouths  over  them;  for 
he  loved  our  bacon  rarely,  and  they  had  no  good  leeks  at 
Dulverton;  and  he  was  a  man  who  always  would  see  his 
business  done  himself.  But  there,  instead  of  my  finding 
him,  with  his  quaint,  dry  face  pulled  out  at  me,  and  then 
shut  up  sharp  not  to  be  cheated — who  should  run  out  but 
Betty  Muxworthy,  and  poke  me  with  a  saucepan-lid. 

"  Get  out  of  that  now,  Betty,"  I  said,  in  my  politest 
manner;  for  really  Betty  was  now  become  a  great  domestic 
evil.  She  would  have  her  own  way  so,  and  of  all  things 
the  most  distressful  was  for  a  man  to  try  to  reason  with  her. 

"  Zider-press,''  cried  Betty  again,  for  she  thought  it  a 
fine  joke  to  call  me  that,  because  of  my  size,  and  my  hatred 
of  it;  "  here  be  a  rare  get-up,  anyhow." 

*'  A  rare  good  dinner,  you  mean,  Betty.  Well,  and  I 
have  a  rare  good  appetite."  With  that  I  wanted  to  go  and 
smell  it,  and  not  to  stop  for  Betty. 

"  Troost  thee  for  thiccy,  Jan  Ridd.  But  thee  must  keep 
it  bit  langer,  I  rackon.  Her  baint  coom,  Maister  Zider- 
press.     Whatfe  mak  of  that  now?" 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Uncle  Ben  has  not  arrived 
yet,  Betty?" 

"Raived!  I  knaws  nout  about  that,  whuther  a  hath  or 
noo.  Only  I  tell  'e  her  baint  coom.  Rackon  them  Doon- 
esses  hath  gat  'un." 

And  Betty,  who  hated  Uncle  Ben,  because  he  never  gave 
her  a  groat,  and  she  was  not  allowed  to  dine  with  him,  I 
am  sorry  to  say  that  Betty  Muxworthy  grinned  all  across, 
and  poked  me  again  with  the  greasy  saucepan-cover.  But 
I,  misliking  so  to  be  treated,  strode  through  the  kitchen 
indignantly,  for  Betty  behaved  to  me  even  now  as  if  I  were 
only  Eliza. 

*'  Oh  Johnny,  Johnny,"  my  mother  cried,  running  out  of 
the  grand  show-parlor,  where  the  case  of  stuUed  birds  was, 
and  peacock-feathers,  and  the  white  hare  killed  by  grand- 
father; '-'I  am  so  glad  you  are  come  at  last!  There  is 
something  sadly  amiss,  Johnny." 


103  LORNA  BOONE, 

Mother  had  upon  her  wrists  something  very  wonderful, 
of  the  nature  of  fal-lal,  as  we  say,  and  for  which  she  had 
an  inborn  turn,  being  of  good  draper  family,  and  polished 
above  the  yeomanry.     Nevertheless,  I  could  never  bear  it, 

Eartly  because  I  felt  it  to  be  out  of  place  in  our  good  farm- 
ouse,  partly  because  I  hate  frippery,  partly  because  it 
seemed  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  father,  and  partly  be- 
cause I  never  could  tell  the  reason  of  my  hating  it.  And 
yet  the  poor  soul  had  put  them  on,  not  to  show  her  hands 
off  (which  were  above  her  station),  but  simply  for  her 
children's  sake,  because  Uncle  Ben  had  given  them.  But 
another  thing,  I  never  could  bear  for  man  or  woman  to 
call  me  "Johnny."  "Jack,"  or  "John,"  I  cared  not 
which;  and  that  was  honest  enough,  and  no  smallness  of 
me  there,  I  say. 

"Well,  mother,  what  is  the  matter,  then?" 

"  I  am  sure  you  need  not  be  angry,  Johnny.  I  only 
hope  it  is  nothing  to  grieve  about,  instead  of  being 
angry.  You  are  very  sweet-tempered,  I  know,  John 
Ridd,  and  perhaps  a  little  too  sweet  at  times  " — here  she 
meant  the  Snowe  girls,  and  I  hanged  my  head — "  but  what 
would  you  say  if  the  people  there  " — she  never  would  call 
them  "Doones" — "had  gotten  your  poor  Uncle  Reuben, 
horse,  and  Sunday  coat,  and  all?" 

"Why,  mother,  I  should  be  sorry  for  them.  He  would 
set  up  a  shop  by  the  river-side,  and  come  away  with  all 
their  money." 

"  That  all  you  have  to  say,  John!  And  my  dinner  done 
to  a  very  turn,  and  the  supper  all  fit  to  go  down,  and  no  worry, 
only  to  eat  and  be  done  with  it!  And  all  the  new  plates 
come  from  Watchett,  with  the  Watchett  blue  upon  them, 
at  the  risk  of  the  lives  of  everybody,  and  the  capias  from 
good  Aunt  Jane  for  stuffing  a  curlew  with  onion  before  he 
begins  to  get  cold,  and  make  a  woodcock  of  him,  and  the 
way  to  turn  the  flap  over  in  the  inside  of  a  roasting  pig " 

"  Well,  mother  dear,  I  am  very  sorry.  But  let  us  have 
our  dinner.  You  know  we  promised  not  to  wait  for  him 
after  one  o'clock;  and  you  only  make  us  hungry.  Every- 
thing will  be  spoiled,  mother,  and  what  a  pity  to  think  of! 
After  that  I  will  go  to  seek  for  him  in  the  thick  of  the  fog, 
like  a  needle  in  a  hay-band;  that  is  to  say,  unless  you 
think" — for  she  looked  very  grave  about  it — "  unless  you 
really  think,  mother,  that  I  ought  to  go  without  dinner." 


MASTER  HUCKABACK  COMES  IN.  103 

*'  Oh  no,  John,  I  never  thought  that,  thank  God!  Bless 
Him  for  mv  children's  appetites!  and  what  is  Uncle  Ben 
to  them?"  " 

So  we  made  a  very  good  dinner  indeed,  though  wishing 
that  he  could  have  some  of  it,  and  wondering  how  much 
to  leave  for  him;  and  then,  as  no  sound  of  his  horse  had 
been  heard,  I  set  out  with  my  gun  to  look  for  him. 
*  I  followed  the  track  on  the  side  of  the  hill,  from  the 
farm-yard,  where  the  sled-marks  are — for  we  have  no 
wheels  upon  Exmoor  yet,  nor  ever  shall,  I  suppose;  though 
a  dunder-headed  man  tried  it  last  winter,  and  broke  his 
axle  piteously,  and  was  nigh  to  break  his  neck — and  after 
that  I  went  all  along  on  the  ridge  of  the  rabbit-cleve,  with 
the  brook  running  thin  in  the  bottom;  and  then  down  to 
the  Lynn-stream,  and  leaped  it,  and  so  up  the  hill  and 
the  moor  beyond.  The  fog  hung  close  all  around  me  then, 
when  I  turned  the  crest  of  the  highland,  and  the  gorse 
both  before  and  behind  me  looked  like  a  man  crouching 
down  in  ambush.  But  still  there  was  a  good  cloud  of  day- 
light, being  scarce  three  of  the  clock  yet,  and  when  a 
lead  of  red  deer  came  across,  I  could  tell  them  from  sheep 
even  now.  I  was  half  inclined  to  shoot  at  them,  for  the 
children  did  love  venison;  but  they  drooped  their  heads 
so,  and  looked  so  faithful,  that  it  seemed  hard  measure  to 
do  it.  If  one  of  them  had  bolted  away,  no  doubt  I  had 
let  go  at  him. 

After  that  I  kept  on  the  track,  trudging  very  stoutly, 
for  nigh  upon  three  miles,  and  my  beard  (now  beginning 
to  grow  at  some  length)  was  full  of  great  drops  and 
prickly,  whereat  I  was  very  proud.  I  had  not  so  much  as 
a  dog  with  me,  and  the  place  was  unked  and  lonesome,  and 
the  rolling  clouds  very  desolate;  and  now  if  a  wild  sheep 
ran  across  he  was  scared  at  me  as  an  enemy;  and  I  for  my 
part  could  not  tell  the  meaning  of  the  marks  on  him.  We 
called  all  this  part  ''Gibbet-moor,"  not  being  in  our 
parish;  but  though  there  were  gibbets  enough  upon  it, 
most  part  of  the  bodies  was  gone  for  the  value  of  the 
chains,  they  said,  and  the  teaching  of  young  chirurgeons. 

But  of  all  this  I  had  little  fear,  being  no  more  a  school-boy, 
now,  but  a  youth  well  acquaint  with  Exmoor,  and  the  wise 
art  of  the  sign-posts,  whereby  a  man,  who  barred  the  road, 
now  opens  it  up  both  ways  with  his  finger-bones,  so  far  as 


104  LORNA  BOONE. 

rogues  allow  him.  My  carbine  was  loaded  and  freshly 
primed,  and  I  knew  myself  to  be  even  now  a  match  in 
strength  for  any  two  men  of  the  size  around  our  neighbor- 
hood, except  in  the  Glen  Doone.  ''Girt  Jan  Ridd,"  I  was 
called  already,  and  folk  grew  feared  to  wrestle  with  me; 
though  I  was  tired  of  hearing  about  it,  and  often  longed  to 
be  smaller.  And  most  of  all  upon  Sundays,  when  I  had 
to  make  way  up  our  little  church,  and  the  maidens  tittered 
at  me. 

The  soft  white  mist  came  thicker  around  me,  as  the 
evening  fell,  and  the  peat-ricks  here  and  there,  and  the 
furze-hucks  of  the  summer-time,  were  all  out  of  shape  in 
the  twist  of  it.  By-and-by  I  began  to  doubt  where  I  was, 
or  how  come  there,  not  having  seen  a  gibbet  lately;  and 
then  I  heard  the  draught  of  the  wind  up  a  hollow  place 
with  rocks  to  it;  and  for  the  first  time  fear  broke  out  (like 
cold  sweat)  upon  me.  And  yet  I  knew  what  a  fool  I  was, 
to  fear  nothing  but  a  sound!  But  when  I  stopped  to 
listen,  there  was  no  sound,  more  than  a  beating  noise,  and 
that  was  all  inside  me.  Therefore  I  went  on  again,  making 
company  of  myself,  and  keeping  my  gun  quite  ready. 

Now,  when  I  came  to  an  unknown  place,  where  a  stone 
was  set  up  endwise,  with  a  faint  red  cross  upon  it,  and  a 
polish  from  some  conflict,  I  gathered  my  courage  to  stop 
and  think,  having  sped  on  the  way  too  hotly.  Against 
that  stone  I  set  my  gun,  trying  my  spirit  to  leave  it  so, 
but  keeping  with  half  a  hand  for  it;  and  then  what  to  do 
next  was  the  wonder.  As  for  finding  Uncle  Ben — that 
was  his  own  business,  or  at  any  rate  his  executor's;  first  I 
had  to  find  myself,  and  plentifully  would  thank  God  to 
find  myself  at  home  again,  for  the  sake  of  all  our  family. 

The  volumes  of  the  mist  came  rolling  at  me  (like  great 
logs  of  wood,  pillowed  out  with  sleepiness),  and  between 
them  there  was  nothing  more  than  waiting  for  the  next 
one.  Then  everything  went  out  of  sight,  and  glad  was  I 
of  the  stone  behind  me,  and  view  of  mine  own  shoes. 
Then  a  distant  noise  went  by  me,  as  of  many  horses  gallop- 
ing, and  in  my  fright  I  set  my  gun  and  said,  ''  God  send 
something  to  shoot  at."  Yet  nothing  came,  and  my  gun 
fell  back,  without  my  will  to  lower  it. 

But  presently,  while  I  was  thinking  ''  What  a  fool  I 
am!"  arose  as  if  from  below  my  feet,  so  that  the  great  stone 


MASTER  HUCKABACK  COMES  IN,  105 

trembled,  that  long  lamenting,  lonesome  sound,  as  of  an 
evil  spirit  not  knowing  what  to  do  with  it.  For  the 
moment  I  stood  like  a  root,  without  either  hand  or  foot  to 
help  me,  and  the  hair  of  my  head  began  to  crawl,  lifting 
my  hat,  as  a  snail  lifts  his  house,  and  my  heart  like  a 
shuttle  went  to  and  fro.  But  finding  no  harm  to  come  of 
it,  neither  visible  form  approaching,  I  wiped  my  forehead 
and  hoped  for  the  best,  and  resolved  to  run  every  step  of 
the  way  till  I  drew  our  own  latch  behind  me. 

Yet  here  again  I  was  disappointed,  for  no  sooner  was  I 
come  to  the  cross-ways  by  the  black  pool  in  the  hole,  but 
I  heard  through  the  patter  of  my  own  feet  a  rough  low 
sound  very  close  in  the  fog,  as  of  a  hobbled  sheep  a-cough- 
ing.  I  listened,  and  feared,  and  yet  listened  again, 
though  I  wanted  not  to  hear  it.  For  being  in  haste  of 
the  homeward  road,  and  all  my  heart  having  heels  to  it, 
loath  I  was  to  stop  in  the  dusk  for  the  sake  of  an  aged 
wether.  Yet  partly  my  love  of  all  animals,  aud  partly 
my  fear  of  the  farmer's  disgrace,  compelled  me  to  go  to  the 
succor,  and  the  noise  was  coming  nearer.  A  dry,  short, 
wheezing  sound  it  was,  barred  with  coughs  and  want  of 
breath;  but  thus  I  made  the  meaning  of  it: 

**  Lord  have  mercy  upon  me!  0  Lord,  upon  my  soul  have 
mercy!  An'  if  I  cheated  Sam  Hicks  last  week,  Lord 
knowest  how  well  he  deserved  it,  and  lied  in  every  stock- 
ing's mouth — 0  Lord,  where  be  I  agoing?" 

These  words,  with  many  jogs  between  them,  came  to  me 
through  the  darkness,  and  then  a  long  groan  and  a 
choking.  I  made  toward  the  sound,  as  nigh  as  ever  I 
could  guess,  and  presently  was  met,  point-blank,  by  the 
head  of  the  mountain  pony.  Upon  its  back  lay  a  man, 
bound  down,  with  his  feet  on  the  neck  and  his  head  to  the 
tail,  and  his  arms  falling  down  like  stirrups.  The  wild 
little  nag  was  scared  of  its  life  by  the  unaccustomed 
burden,  and  had  been  tossing  and  rolling  hard,  in  desire 
to  get  ease  of  it. 

^Before  the  little  horse  could  turn,  I  caught  him,  jaded 
as  he  was,  by  his  wet  and  grizzled  forelock,  and  he  saw 
that  it  was  vain  to  struggle,  but  strove  to  bite  me  none  the 
less,  until  I  smote  him  upon  the  nose. 

*'  Good  and  worthy  sir,"  I  said  to  the  man  who  was 
riding  so  roughly,  **fear  nothing:  no  harm  shall  come  to 
thee." 


106  LORNA  BOONE. 

"  Help,  good  friend,  whoever  thou  art,"  he  gasped,  but 
could  not  look  at  me,  because  his  neck  was  jerked  so; 
*'  God  hath  sent  thee,  and  not  to  rob  me,  because  it  is  done 
already." 

"What,  Uncle  Ben!"  I  cried,  letting  go  the  horse  in 
amazement  that  the  richest  man  in  Dulverton — "Uncle 
Ben  here  in  this  plight!     What,  Mr.  Reuben  Huckaback!" 

"An  honest  hosier  and  draper,  serge  and  long-cloth 
warehouseman" — he  groaned  from  rib  to  rib — "at  the 
sign  of  the  gartered  kitten  in  the  loyal  town  of  Dulverton. 
For  God's  sake,  let  me  down,  good  fellow,  from  this 
accursed  marrow-bone;  and  a  groat  of  good  money  will  1 
pay  thee,  safe  in  my  house  to  Dulverton;  but  take  notice 
that  the  horse  is  mine,  no  less  than  the  nag  they  robbed 
from  me." 

"  What,  Uncle  Ben,  dost  thou  not  know  me,  thy  dutiful 
nephew,  John  Ridd?" 

Not  to  make  a  long  story  of  it,  I  cut  the  thongs  that 
bound  him,  and  set  him  astride  on  the  little  horse;  but  he 
was  too  weak  to  stay  so.  Therefore  J  mounted  him  on  my 
back,  turning  the  horse  into  horse-steps,  and  leading  the 
pony  by  the  cords  which  I  fastened  around  his  nose,  set 
out  for  Plover's  Barrows. 

Uncle  Ben  went  fast  asleep  on  my  back,  being  jaded 
and  shaken  beyond  his  strength,  for  a  man  of  three-score- 
and-five;  and  as  soon  as  he  felt  assured  of  safety  he  would 
talk  no  more.  And,  to  tell  the  truth,  he  snored  so  loudly 
that  I  could  almost  believe  that  fearful  noise  in  the  fog 
every  night  came  all  the  way  from  Dulverton. 

Now,  as  soon  as  ever  I  brought  him  in,  we  set  him  up 
in  the  chimney-corner,  comfortable  and  handsome;  and  it 
was  no  little  delight  to  me  to  get  him  off  my  back;  for, 
like  his  own  fortune.  Uncle  Ben  was  of  a  good  round  figure. 
He  gave  his  long  coat  a  shake  or  two,  and  he  stamped 
about  in  the  kitchen  until  he  was  sure  of  his  whereabouts, 
and  then  he  fell  asleep  again  until  supper  should  be  ready. 

"  He  shall  marry  Ruth,"  he  said^  by-and-by  to  himself, 
and  not  to  me;  "  he  shall  marry  Ruth  for  this,  and  have 
my  little  savings,  soon  as  they  be  worth  the  having.  Very 
little  as  yet,  very  little  indeed;  and  ever  so  much  gone 
to-day  along  of  them  rascal  robbers." 

My  mother  made  a  dreadful  stir,  of  course,  about  Uncle 


MASTER  HUCKABACK  COMES  IN.  lO? 

Ben  being  in  such  a  plight  as  this;  so  I  left  him  to  her 
care  and  x\nnie's,  and  soon  they  fed  him  rarely,  while  I 
went  out  to  see  to  tlie  comfort  of  the  captured  pony.  And 
in  truth  he  was  worth  the  catching,  and  served  us  very 
well  afterward,  though  Uncle  Ben  was  inclined  to  claim 
him  for  his  business  at  Dulverton,  where  they  have  carts 
and  that  like.  "  But,"  I  said,  "  you  shall  have  him,  sir, 
and  welcome,  if  you  will  only  ride  him  home  as  first  I 
found  you  riding  him."    And  with  that  he  dropped  it. 

A  very  strange  old  man  he  was,  short  in  his  manner, 
though  long  of  body,  glad  to  do  the  contrary  thing  to  what 
any  one  expected  of  him,  and  always  looking  sharply  at 
people,  as  if  he  feared  to  be  cheated.  This  surprised  me 
much  at  first,  because  it  showed  his  ignorance  of  what  we 
farmers  are — an  upright  race,  as  you  may  find,  scarcely 
ever  cheating  indeed,  except  upon  market-day,  and  even 
then  no  more  than  may  be  helped  by  reason  of  buyers  ex- 
pecting it.  Now  our  simple  ways  were  a  puzzle  to  him,  as 
I  told  him  very  often;  but  he  only  laughed,  and  rubbed 
his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his  dry,  shining  hand;  and  I 
think  he  shortly  began  to  languish  for  want  of  some  one 
to  higgle  with.  I  had  a  great  mind  to  give  him  the  pony, 
because  he  thought  himself  cheated  in  that  case;  only  he 
would  conclude  that  I  did  it  with  some  view  to  a  legacy. 

Of  course,  the  Doones,  and  nobody  else,  had  robbed  good 
Uncle  Reuben;  and  then  they  grew  sportive,  and  took  his 
horse,  an  especially  sober  nag,  and  bound  the  master  upon 
the  wild  one,  for  a  little  change,  as  they  told  him.  For 
two  or  three  hours  they  had  fine  enjoyment  chasing  him 
through  the  fog,  and  making  much  sport  of  his  groanings; 
and  then  waxing  hungry,  they  went  their  way,  and  left 
him  to  opportunity.  Now  Mr.  Huckaback,  growing  able 
to  walk  in  a  few  days'  time,  became  thereupon  impatient, 
and  could  not  be  brought  to  understand  why  he  should 
have  been  robbed  at  all. 

*'I  have  never  deserved  it,"  he  said  to  himself,  not 
knowing  much  of  Providence,  except  with  a  small  p  to  it; 
**  I  have  never  deserved  it,  and  will  not  stand  it  in  the 
name  of  our  lord  the  King,  not  I!"  At  other  times  he 
would  burst  forth  thus:  "  Three-score  years  and  five  have 
I  lived  an  honest  and  laborious  life,  yet  never  was  I  robbed 
before.  And  now  to  be  robbed  in  my  old  age;  to  be 
robbed  for  the  first  time  nowl" 


108  LOUNA  l)OOIf-E. 

Thereupon,  of  course,  we  would  tell  him  how  truly 
thankful  he  ought  to  be  for  never  having  been  robbed 
before,  in  spite  of  living  so  long  in  this  world,  and  that  he 
was  taking  a  very  ungrateful,  not  to  say  ungracious,  view, 
in  thus  repining  and  feeling  aggrieved;  when  any  one  else 
would  have  knelt  and  thanked  God  for  enjoying  so  long  an 
immunity.  But  say  what  we  would,  it  was  all  as  one. 
Uncle  Ben  stuck  last  to  it,  that  he  had  nothing  to  thank 
God  for. 


A  MOTION  WHICH  ENDS  IN  A  MULL.  100 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A  MOTION   WHICH   ENDS  IN  A  MULL. 

Instead  of  minding  his  New  Year  pudding,  Master 
Huckaback  carried  on  so  about  his  mighty  grievance,  that 
at  last  we  began  to  think  there  must  be  something  in  it 
after  all,  especially  as  he  assured  us  that  choice  and  costly 
presents  for  the  young  people  of  our  household  were  among 
the  goods  divested.  But  mother  told  him  her  children 
had  plenty,  and  wanted  no  gold  and  silver;  and  little 
Eliza  spoke  up  and  said,  *'You  can  give  us  the  pretty 
things.  Uncle  Ben,  when  we  come  in  the  summer  to  see 

you.- 

Our  mother  reproved  Eliza  for  this,  although  it  was  the 
heel  of  her  own  foot;  and  then,  to  satisfy  our  uncle,  she 
promised  to  call  Farmer  Nicholas  Snowe  to  be  of  our 
council  that  evening,  ^*^and  if  the  young  maidens  would 
kindly  come,  without  taking  thought  to  smooth  themselves, 
why  it  would  be  all  the  merrier,  and  who  knew  but  what 
Uncle  Huckaback  might  bless  the  day  of  his  robbery,  etc., 
etc. — and  thorough  good  honest  girls  they  were,  fit  help- 
mates either  for  shop  or  farm."  All  of  which  was  meant 
for  me;  but  I  stuck  to  my  platter,  and  answered  not. 

In  the  evening  Farmer  Snowe  came  up,  leading  his 
daughters  after  him,  like  fillies  trimmed  for  a  fair;  and 
Uncle  Ben,  who  had  not  seen  them  on  the  night  of  his 
mishap  (because  word  had  been  sent  to  stop  them),  was 
mightily  pleased  and  very  pleasant,  according  to  his  town- 
bred  ways.  The  damsels  had  seen  good  company,  and 
soon  got  over  their  fear  of  his  wealth,  and  played  him  a 
number  of  merry  pranks,  which  made  our  mother  quite 
jealous  for  Annie,  who  was  always  shy  and  diffident. 
However,  when  the  hot  cup  was  done,  and  before  the 
mulled  wine  was  ready,  we  packed  all  the  maidens  in  the 
parlor  and  turned  the  key  upon  them;  and  then  we  drew 


no  LOUNA  DOONE. 

near  the  kitchen  fire  to  hear  Uncle  Ben's  proposal.  Farmer 
Snowe  sat  up  in  the  corner,  caring  little  to  hear  about  any- 
thing, but  smoking  slowly  and  nodding  backward  like  a 
sheep-dog  dreaming.  Mother  was  in  the  settle,  of  course, 
knitting  hard,  as  usual;  and  Uncle  Ben  took  to  a  three- 
legged  stool,  as  if  all  but  that  had  been  thieved  from  him. 
Howsoever,  he  kept  his  breath  from  speech,  giving  privi- 
lege, as  was  due,  to  mother. 

"  Master  Snowe,  you  are  well  assured,*'  said  mother, 
coloring  like  the  furze  as  it  took  the  flame  and  fell  over, 
"  that  our  kinsman  here  hath  received  rough  harm  on  his 
peaceful  journey  from  Dulverton.  The  times  are  bad,  as 
we  all  know  well,  and  there  is  no  sign  of  bettering  them;  and 
if  I  could  see  our  lord  the  King  I  might  say  things  to  move 
him:  nevertheless,  I  have  had  so  much  of  my  own  account 
to  vex  for " 

''You  are  flying  out  of  the  subject,  Sarah,"  said  Uncle 
Ben,  seeing  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  tired  of  that  matter. 

*'  Zettle  the  pralimbinaries/'  spoke  Farmer  Snowe,  on 
appeal  from  us;  "  virst  zettle  the  pralimbinaries;  and  then 
us  knows  what  be  drivin'  at." 

''^Prelimiuariesbe  d d,  sir!"  cried  Uncle  Ben,  losing 

his  temper.  **  What  preliminaries  were  there  when  I  was 
robbed,  I  should  like  to  know?  Robbed  in  this  parish,  as 
I  can  prove  to  the  eternal  disgrace  of  Oare  and  the  scandal 
of  all  England.  And  I  hold  this  parish  to  answer  for  it, 
sir;  this  parish  shall  make  it  good,  being  a  nest  of  foul 
thieves  as  it  is;  ay,  farmers  and  yeomen,  and  all  of  you.  I 
will  beggar  every  man  in  this  pariah,  if  they  be  not  beggars 
already;  ay,  and  sell  your  old  church  up  before  your  eyes, 
but  what  I  will  have  back  my  tarlatan,  time-piece,  saddle 
and  dove-tailed  nag." 

Mother  looked  at  me,  and  I  looked  at  Farmer  Snowe, 
and  we  all  were  sorry  for  Master  Huckaback;  putting  our 
hands  up  one  to  another,  that  nobody  should  brow-beat 
him;  because  we  all  knew  what  our  parish  was,  and  none 
the  worse  for  strong  language,  however  rich  the  man  might 
be.  But  Uncle  Ben  took  it  a  different  way.  He  thought 
that  we  all  were  afraid  of  him,  and  that  Oare  parish  was 
but  as  Moab  or  Edom  for  him  to  cast  his  shoe  over. 

'^  Nephew  Jack,"  he  cried,  looking  at  me  when  I  was 
thinking  what  to  say,  and  finding  only  emptiness;  "  you 


A  MOTION  WHICH  ENDS  IN  A  MULL.  HI 

are  a  heavy  lout,  sir;  a  bumpkin,  a  clod-hopper;  and 
I  shall  leave  you  nothing,  unless  it  be  my  boots  to  grease." 

**  Well,  uncle,"  I  made  answer,  '*  I  will  grease  your  boots 
all  the  same  for  that,  so  long  as  you  be  our  guest,  sir." 

Now  that  answer,  made  without  a  thought,  stood  me  for 
two  thousand  pounds,  as  you  shall  see  by-and-by,  perhaps. 

**  As  to  the  parish,"  my  mother  cried  out,  being  too  hard 
set  to  contain  herself,  *M.he  parish  can  defend  itself,  and 
we  may  leave  it  to  do  so.  But  our  Jack  is  not  like  that, 
sir;  and  I  will  not  have  him  spoken  of.  Leave  him,  in- 
deed! Who  wants  you  to  do  more  than  to  leave  him  alone, 
sir;  as  he  might  have  done  you  the  other  night,  and  as  no 
one  else  would  have  dared  to  do.  And  after  that,  to  think 
so  meanly  of  me  and  of  my  children!" 

** Hoity-toity,  Sarah!  Your  children,  I  suppose,  are  the 
same  as  other  people's." 

''That  they  are  not,  and  never  will  be;  and  you  ought 
to  know  it.  Uncle  Reuben,  if  any  one  in  the  world  ought. 
Other  people's  children !" 

''Well,  well!"  Uncle  Reuben  answered;  "I  know  very 
little  of  children,  except  my  little  Ruth,  and  she  is  nothing 
wonderful." 

"  I  never  said  that  my  children  were  wonderful.  Uncle 
Ben;  nor  did  I  ever  think  it.     But  as  for  being  good " 

Here  mother  fetched  out  her  handkerchief,  being  over- 
come by  our  goodness;  and  I  told  her,  with  my  hand  to  my 
mouth,  not  to  notice  him,  though  he  might  oe  worth  ten 
thousand  times  ten  thousand  pounds. 

But  Farmer  Snowe  came  forward  now,  for  he  had  some 
sense  sometimes;  and  he  thought  it  was  high  time  for  him 
to  say  a  word  for  the  parish. 

"  Maister  Huckaback,"  he  began,  pointing  with  his 
pipe  at  him,  the  end  that  was  done  in  sealing-wax, 
"tooching  of  what  you  was  plaised  to  zay  'bout  this 
here  parish,  and  no  oother,  mind  me  no  oother  parish  but 
thees,  I  use  the  vreedom,  zur,  for  to  tell  'e  that  thee  be  a 
laiar." 

Then  Farmer  Nicholas  Snowe  folded  his  arms  across,  with 
the  bowl  of  his  pipe  on  the  upper  one,  and  gave  me  a  nod, 
and  then  one  to  mother,  to  testify  how  he  had  done  his 
duty,  and  recked  not  what  might  come  of  it.  However,  he 
got  little  thanks  from  us;  for  the  parish  was  nothing  at  all 


il^  LORNA  DOONE, 

fco  my  mother,  compared  with  her  children's  interests;  and 
I  thought  it  hard  that  an  uncle  of  mine,  and  an  old  man 
too,  should  be  called  a  liar  by  a  visitor  at  our  fire-place;  for 
we,  in  our  rude  part  of  the  world,  counted  it  one  of  the 
worst  disgraces  that  could  befall  a  man  to  receive  the  lie 
from  any  one.  But  Uncle  Ben,  as  it  seems,  was  used  to 
it,  in  the  way  of  trade:  just  as  people  of  fashion  are,  by  a 
style  of  courtesy. 

Therefore  the  old  man  only  looked  with  pity  at  Farmer 
Nicholas;  and  with  a  sort  of  sorrow  too,  reflecting  how 
much  he  might  have  made  in  a  bargain  with  such  a  cus- 
tomer, so  ignorant  and  hot-headed. 

*^Now,  let  us  bandy  words  no  more,"  said  mother,  very 
sweetly;  '*  nothing  is  easier  than  sharp  words,  except  to 
wish  them  unspoken,  as  I  do  many  and  many's  the  time, 
when  I  think  of  my  good  husband.  But  now  let  us  hear 
from  Uncle  Reuben  what  he  would  have  us  do  to  remove 
this  disgrace  from  among  us,  and  to  satisfy  him  of  his 
goods." 

*^  I  care  not  for  my  goods,  woman,"  Master  Huckaback 
answered,  grandly;  "although  they  were  of  large  value, 
about  them  I  say  nothing.  But  what  I  demand  is  this, 
the  punishment  of  those  scoundrels." 

"Zober,  man,  zober!"  cried  Farmer  Nicholas;  "we  be 
too  naigh  JBadgery  'ood  to  spake  like  that  of  the  Dooneses." 

"  Pack  of  cowards!"  said  Uncle  Reuben,  looking  first  at 
the  door,  however;  "  much  chance  I  see  of  getting  redress 
from  the  valor  of  this  Exmoor!  And  you,  Master  Snowe, 
the  very  man  whom  I  looked  to  to  raise  the  country,  and 
take  the  lead  as  church-warden — why,  my  youngest  shop- 
man would  match  his  eel  against  you.  Pack  of  cowards!" 
cried  Uncle  Ben,  rising  and  shaking  his  lappets  at  us; 
"  don't  pretend  to  answer  me.  Shake  you  all  off,  that  I 
do — nothing  more  to  do  with  you !" 

We  knew  it  useless  to  answer  him,  and  conveyed  our 
knowledge  to  one  another,  without  anything  to  vex  him. 
However,  when  the  mulled  wine  was  come,  and  a  good 
deal  of  it  gone  (the  season  being  Epiphany),  Uncle  Reuben 
began  to  think  that  he  might  have  been  too  hard  with  us. 
Moreover,  he  was  beginning  now  to  respect  Farmer  Nicho- 
las bravely,  because  of  the  way  he  had  smoked  his  pipes, 
and  the  little  noise  made  over  them.     And  Lizzie  and 


A  MOTION  WHICB  ENDS  IN  A  MULL.  113 

Annie  were  doing  their  best — for  now  we  had  let  the  girls 
out — to  wake  more  lightsome  uproar;  also  young  Faith 
Snowe  was  toward  to  keep  the  old  men's  cups  aflow,  and 
hansel  them  to  their  liking. 

So  at  the  close  of  our  entertainment,  when  the  girls  were 
gone  away  to  fetch  and  light  their  lanterns  (over  which 
they  made  rare  noise,  blowing  each  the  other's  out,  for 
counting  of  the  sparks  to  come),  Master  Huckaback 
stood  up,  without  much  aid  from  tlie  crock-saw,  and 
looked  at  mother  and  all  of  us. 

**  Let  no  one  leave  this  place,''  said  he,  "  until  I  have 
said  what  I  want  to  say;  for  saving  of  ill-will  among  us, 
and  growth  of  cheer  and  comfort.  May  be  I  have  carried 
things  too  far,  even  to  the  bounds  of  churlishness,  and 
beyond  the  bounds  of  good  manners.  I  will  not  unsay  one 
word  I  have  said,  having  never  yet  done  so  in  my  life;  but 
I  would  alter  the  manner  of  it,  and  set  it  forth  in  this  light. 
If  you  folks  upon  Exmoor  here  are  loath  and  wary  at 
fighting,  yet  you  are  brave  at  better  stuff,  tlie  best  and 
kindest  I  ever  knew  in  the  matter  of  feeding." 

Here  he  sat  down  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  called  for 
a  little  mulled  bastard.  All  the  maids,  who  were  now 
come  back,  raced  to  get  it  for  him,  but  Annie,  of  course, 
was  foremost.  And  herein  ended  the  expedition,  a  •peril- 
ous and  a  great  one,  against  the  Doones  of  Bagworthy;  an 
enterprise  over  which  we  had  all  talked  plainly  more  than 
was  good  for  us.  For  my  part,  I  slept  well  that  night, 
feeling  myself  at  home  again,  now  tliat  the  fighting  was 
put  aside,  and  the  fear  of  it  turned  to  the  comfort  of  talk- 
ing what  we  would  have  done. 


114  LOBNA  DOONE. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

MASTER  HUCKABACK   FAILS  OF   WARRANT. 

On"  the  following  day  Master  Huckaback,  with  some 
show  of  mystery,  demanded  from  my  mother  an  escort  into 
a  dangerous  part  of  the  world,  to  which  his  business  com- 
pelled him.  My  mother  made  answer  to  this  that  he  was 
kindly  welcome  to  take  our  John  Fry  with  him;  at  which 
the  good  clothier  laughed,  and  said  that  John  was  nothing 
like  big  enough,  but  another  John  must  serve  his  turn,  not 
only  for  his  size,  but  because  if  he  were  carried  away,  no 
stone  would  be  left  unturned  upon  Exmoor  until  he  should 
be  brought  back  again.  Hereupon  my  mother  grew  very 
pale,  and  found  fifty  reasons  against  my  going,  each  of 
them  weightier  than  the  true  one,  as  Eliza  (who  was  jeal- 
ous of  me)  managed  to  whisper  to  Annie.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  was  quite  resolved  (directly  the  thing  was  men- 
tioned) to  see  Uncle  Reuben  through  with  it;  and  it  added 
much  to  my  self-esteem  to  be  the  guard  of  so  rich  a  man. 
Therefore  I  soon  persuaded  mother,  with  her  head  upon 
my  breast,  to  let  me  go,  and  trust  in  God;  and  after  that  I 
was  greatly  vexed  to  find  that  this  dangerous  enterprise 
was  nothing  more  than  a  visit  to  the  Baron  de  Whichehalse, 
to  lay  an  information,  and  sue  a  warrant  against  the 
Doones,  and  a  posse  to  execute  it. 

Stupid  as  I  always  have  been,  and  must  ever  be,  no 
doubt,  I  could  well  have  told  Uncle  Reuben  that  his  jour- 
ney was  no  wiser  one  than  that  of  the  men  of  Gotham; 
that  he  never  would  get  from  Hugh  de  Whichehalse,  a 
warrant  against  the  Doones;  moreover,  that  if  he  did  get 
one,  his  own  wig  would  be  singed  with  it.  But  for  divers 
reasons  I  held  my  peace,  partly  from  youth  and  modesty, 
partly  from  desire  to  see  whatever  please  God  I  should 
see,  and  partly  from  other  causes. 

We  rode  by  way  of  Brendon  town,  Illford  Bridge,  and 


MASTER  HUCKABACK  FAILS  OF  WARRANT,        115 

Babbrook,  to  avoid  the  great  hill  above  Lynmouth;  and 
the  day  being  fine  and  clear  again,  I  laughed  in  my  sleeve 
at  Uncle  Reuben  for  all  his  fine  precautions.  When  we 
arrived  at  Ley  Manor,  we  were  shown  very  civilly  into  the 
hall,  and  refreshed  with  good  ale  and  collared  head,  and 
the  back  of  a  Christmas  pudding.  I  had  never  been  under 
so  fine  a  roof  (unless  it  were  of  a  church)  before;  and  it 
pleased  me  greatly  to  be  so  kindly  entreated  by  high-born 
folk.  But  Uncle  Reuben  was  vexed  a  little  at  being  set 
down  side  by  side  with  a  man  in  a  very  small  way  of  trade, 
who  was  come  upon  some  business  there,  and  who  made 
bold  to  drink  his  health  after  finishing  their  horns  of  ale. 

*'Sir/''  said  Uncle  Ben,  looking  at  him,  *'my  health 
would  fare  much  better  if  you  would  pay  me  three  pounds 
and  twelve  shillings,  which  you  have  owed  me  these  five 
years  back;  and  now  we  are  met  at  the  Justice's  the 
opportunity  is  good,  sir." 

After  that  we  were  called  to  the  Justice-room,  where  the 
Baron  himself  was  sitting,  with  Colonel  Harding,  another 
Justiciary  of  the  King's  peace,  to  help  him.  I  had  seen 
the  Baron  de  Whichehalse  before,  and  was  not  at  all  afraid 
of  him,  having  been  at  school  with  his  son,  as  he  knew, 
and  it  made  him  very  kind  to  me.  And  indeed  he  was 
kind  to  everybody,  and  all  our  people  spoke  well  of  him; 
and  so  much  the  more  because  we  knew  that  the  house  was 
in  decadence.  For  the  first  De  Whichehalse  had  come 
from  Holland,  where  he  had  been  a  great  nobleman,  some 
hundred  and  fifty  years  agone.  Being  presecuted  for  his 
religion,  when  the  Spanish  power  was  everything,  he  fled 
to  England  with  all  he  could  save,  and  bought  large 
estates  in  Devonshire.  Since  then  his  descendants  had 
intermarried  with  ancient  county  families — Cotwells,  and 
Marwoods,  and  Walronds,  and  Welshes  of  Pylton,  and 
Chichesters  of  Hall;  and  several  of  the  ladies  brought 
them  large  increase  of  property.  And  so,  about  fifty 
years  before  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing,  there  were 
few  names  in  the  West  of  England  thought  more  of  than 
Be  Whichehalse.  But  now  they  had  lost  a  great  deal  of 
land,  and  therefore  of  that  which  goes  with  land  as  surely 
as  fame  belongs  to  earth — I  mean  big  reputation.  How 
they  had  lost  it  none  could  tell,  except  that  as  the  first 
descendants  had  a  manner  of  amassing,  so  the  latter  ones 


116  LORNA  DOONE. 

were  gifted  with  a  power  of  scattering.  Whether  this  came 
of  good  DevoDshire  blood  opening  the  sluice  of  Low  Country 
veins,  is  beyond  both  my  province  and  my  power  to 
inquire.  Anyhow  all  people  loved  this  last  strain  of  De 
Wiiichehalse  far  more  than  the  name  had  been  liked  a 
hundred  years  agone. 

Hugh  de  Whichehalse,  a  white-haired  man,  of  very  noble 
presence,  with  friendly  blue  eyes  and  a  sweet  smooth  fore- 
head, and  aquiline  nose  quite  beautiful  (as  you  might 
expect  in  a  lady  of  birth),  and  thin  lips  curving  delicately, 
this  gentleman  rose  as  we  entered  the  room;  while  Colonel 
Harding  turned  on  his  chair,  and  struck  one  spur  against 
the  other.  I  am  sure  that,  without  knowing  aught  of 
either,  we  must  have  reverenced  more  of  the  two  the  one 
who  showed  respect  to  us.  And  yet  nine  gentlemen  out  of 
ten  make  this  dull  mistake  when  dealing  with  the  class 
below  them! 

Uncle  Reuben  made  his  very  best  scrape,  and  then 
walked  up  to  the  table,  trying  to  look  as  if  he  did  not  know 
himself  to  be  wealthier  than  both  the  gentlemen  put 
together.  Of  course  he  was  no  stranger  to  them,  any  more 
than  I  was;  and,  as  it  proved  afterward.  Colonel  Harding 
owed  him  a  lump  of  money,  upon  very  good  security 
Of  him  Uncle  Reuben  took  no  notice,  but  addressed 
himself  to  De  Whichehalse. 

The  Baron  smiled  very  gently,  so  soon  as  he  learned  the 
cause  of  this  visit,  and  then  he  replied  quite  reasonably: 

'*A  warrant  against  the  Doones,  Master  Huckaback? 
Which  of  the  Doones,  so  please  you  ?  and  the  Christian 
names,  what  be  they?'' 

*'  My  lord,  I  am  not  their  godfather;  and  most  like  they 
never  had  any.  But  we  all  know  old  Sir  Ensor's  name,  so 
that  may  be  no  obstacle." 

"  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  and  his  sons — so  be  it.  How  many 
sons.  Master  Huckaback,  and  what  is  the  name  of  each 


one 


9" 


"How  can  I  tell  you,  my  lord,  even  if  I  had  known 
them  all  as  well  as  my  own  shop-boys?  Nevertheless,  there 
were  seven  of  them,  and  that  should  be  no  obstacle." 

"  A  warrant  against  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  and  seven  sons  of 
Sir  Ensor  Doone,  Christian  names  unknown,  and  doubted 
if  they  have  any.     So  far  so  good,  Master  Huckaback.     I 


MASTER  HUCKABACK  FAILS  OF  WARRANT.        II7 

have  it  all  down  in  writing.  Sir  Ensor  himself  was  there, 
of  course,  as  yoa  have  given  in  evidence " 

'*  No,  no,  my  lord,  I  never  said    that;  I  never  said " 

'*  If  he  can  prove  that  he  was  not  there,  you  may  be 
indicted  for  perjury.  But  as  for  those  seven  sons  of  his, 
of  course  you  can  swear  that  they  were  his  sons,  and  not 
his  nephews,  or  grandchildren,  or  even  no  Doones  at  all." 

"  My  lord,  I  can  swear  that  they  were  Doones.  More- 
over, I  can  pay  for  any  mistake  I  make.  Therein  need  be 
no  obstacle." 

"  Oh  yes,  he  can  pay;  he  can  pay  well  enough,"  said 
Colonel  Harding,  shortly. 

**I  am  heartily  glad  to  hear  it,"  replied  the  Baron, 
pleasantly;  '*  for  it  proves,  after  all,  that  this  robbery  (if 
robbery  there  has  been)  was  not  so  very  ruinous.  Some- 
times people  think  they  are  robbed,  and  then  it  is  very 
sweet  afterward  to  find  that  they  have  not  been  so;  for  it 
adds  to  their  joy  in  their  property.  Now,  are  you  quite 
convinced,  good  sir,  that  these  people  (if  there  were  any) 
stole,  or  took,  or  even  borrowed  anything  at  all  from  you?'' 

*'  My  lord,  do  you  think  that  I  was  drunk?" 

*'  Not  for  a  moment,  Master  Huckaback.  Although 
excuse  might  be  made  for  you  at  this  time  of  the  year. 
But  how  did  you  know  that  your  visitors  were  of  this  par- 
ticular family?" 

**  Because  it  could  be  nobody  else.  Because,  in  spite  of 
the  fog " 

"Fog!"  cried  Colonel  Harding,  sharply. 

"Fog!"  said  tho  Baron,  with  emphasis.  "Ah,  that  ex- 
plains the  whole  affair.  To  be  sure,  now  I  remember,  the 
weather  has  been  too  tliick  for  a  man  to  see  the  head  of 
his  own  horse.  The  Doones  (if  still  there  be  any  Doones) 
could  never  have  come  abroad;  that  is  as  sure  as  simony. 
Master  Huckaback,  for  your  good  sake,  I  am  heartily  glad 
that  this  charge  has  miscarried.  I  thoroughly  understand 
it  now.     The  fog  explains  the  whole  of  it." 

"Go  back,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Colonel  Harding; 
"and  if  the  day  is  clear  enough,  you  will  find  all  your 
things  where  you  left  them.  I  know,  from  my  own  ex- 
perience, what  it  is  to  be  caught  in  an  Exmoor  fog." 

Uncle  Reuben,  by  this  time,  was  so  put  out  that  he 
hardly  knew  what  he  was  saying. 


118  LORN  A  BOONE. 

'*My  lord,  Sir  Colonel,  is  this  your  justice!  If  I  go  to 
London  myself  for  it,  the  King  shall  know  how  his  com- 
mission— how  a  man  may  be  robbed,  and  the  justices  prove 
that  he  ought  to  be  hanged  at  the  back  of  it;  that  in  his 
good  shire  of  Somerset— — " 

'^  Your  pardon  a  moment,  good  sir,"  De  Whichehalse 
interrupted  him;  **but  I  was  about  (having  heard  your 
case)  to  mention  what  need  be  an  obstacle,  and,  I  fear, 
would  prove  a  fatal  one,  even  if  satisfactory  proof  were 
afforded  of  a  felony.  The  malfeasance  (if  any)  was  laid  in 
Somerset;  but  we,  two  humble  servants  of  his  majesty,  are 
in  commission  of  his  peace  for  the  county  of  Devon  only, 
and  therefore  could  never  deal  witli  it." 

**And  why,  in  the  name  of  God,"  cried  Uncle  Reuben, 
now  carried  at  last  fairly  beyond  himself,  '^  why  could 
you  not  say  as  much  at  first,  and  save  me  all  this  waste  of 
time  and  worry  of  my  temper?  Gentlemen,  you  are  all  in 
league;  all  of  you  stick  together.  You  think  it  fair  sport  for 
an  honest  trader, who  makes  no  shams  as  you  do,  to  be  robbed 
and  well-nigh  murdered,  so  long  as  they  who  did  it  own 
the  high  birthright  of  felony.  If  a  poor  sheep  stealer,  to 
save  his  children  from  dying  of  starvation,  had  dared  to 
look  at  a  two-month  lamb,  he  would  swing  on  the  Manor 
gallows,  and  all  of  you  cry  *good  riddancel'  But  now,  be- 
cause good  birth  and  bad  manners "     Here  poor  Uncle 

Ben,  not  being  so  strong  as  before  the  Doones  had  played 
with  him,  began  to  foam  at  the  mouth  a  little,  and  his 
tongue  went  into  the  hollow  where  his  short  gray  whiskers 
were. 

I  forget  how  we  came  out  of  it,  only  I  was  greatly 
shocked  at  bearding  of  the  gentry  so,  and  mother  scarce 
could  see  her  way  when  I  told  her  all  about  it.  **  Depend 
upon  it  you  were  wrong,  John,"  was  all  I  could  get  out  of  her; 
though  what  had  I  done  but  listen,  and  touch  my  forelock, 
when  called  upon?  *^  John,  you  may  take  my  word  for 
it,  you  have  not  done  as  you  should  have  done.  Your 
father  would  have  been  shocked  to  think  of  going  to  Baron 
de  Whichehalse,  and  in  his  own  house  insulting  him! 
And  yet  it  was  very  brave  of  you,  John.  Just  like  you, 
all  over.  And  (as  none  of  the  men  are  here,  dear  John) 
I  am  proud  of  you  for  doing  it." 

All  throughout  the  homeward  road  Uncle  Ben  had  been 


MASTER  HUCKABACK  FAILS  OF  WARRANT.        119 

very  silent,  feeling  much  displeased  with  himself,  and  still 
more  so  with  other  people.  But  before  he  went  to  bed 
that  night,  he  just  said  to  me,  '*  Nephew  Jack,  you  have 
not  behaved  so  badly  as  the  rest  to  me.  And  because  you 
have  no  gift  of  talking,  I  think  that  I  may  trust  you. 
Now,  mark  my  words,  this  villain  job  shall  not  have  ending 
here.     I  have  another  card  to  play." 

*'You  mean,  sir,  I  suppose,  that  you  will  go  to  the 
justices  of  this  shire,  Squire  Maunder,  or  Sir  Richard 
Blewitt,  or " 

*'Oaf,  I  mean  nothing  of  the  sort;  they  would  only 
make  a  laughing-stock,  as  those  Devonshire  people  did,  of 
me.  No,  I  will  go  to  the  King  himself,  or  a  man  who  is 
bigger  than  the  King,  and  to  whom  I  have  already  access. 
I  will  not  tell  thee  his  name  at  present,  only  if  thou  art 
brought  before  him,  never  wilt  thou  forget  it."  That  was 
true  enough,  by-the-by,  as  I  discovered  afterward,  for  the 
man  he  meant  was  Judge  Jeffreys. 

*'  And  when  are  you  likely  to  see  him,  sir?" 

"  Maybe  in  the  spring,  maybe  not  until  summer,  for  I  can- 
not go  to  London  on  purpose,  but  when  my  business  takes 
me  there.  Only  remember  my  words.  Jack,  and  when  you 
see  the  man  I  mean,  look  straight  at  him,  and  tell  no  lie. 
He  will  make  some  of  your  zany  squires  shake  in  their 
shoes,  I  reckon.  Now  I  have  been  in  this  lonely  hole  far 
longer  than  I  intended,  by  reason  of  this  outrage;  yet  I 
will  stay  here  one  day  more  upon  a  certain  condition." 

*'Upon  what  condition.  Uncle  Ben?  I  grieve  that  you 
find  it  so  lonely.  We  will  have  Farmer  Nicholas  up  again, 
and  the  singers,  and " 

'*The  fashionable  milkmaids!  I  thank  you,  let  me  be. 
The  wenches  are  too  loud  for  me.  Your  Nanny  is  enough. 
Nanny  is  a  good  child,  and  she  shall  come  and  visit  me." 
Uncle  Reuben  would  always  call  her  ''Nanny;"  he  said 
that  "  Annie  "  was  too  fine  and  Frenchified  for  us.  ''  But 
my  condition  is  this.  Jack,  that  you  shall  guide  me  to- 
morrow, without  a  word  to  any  one,  to  a  place  where  I  may 
well  descry  the  dwelling  of  these  scoundrel  Doones,  and 
learn  the  best  way  to  get  at  them,  when  the  time  shall 
come.  Can  you  do  this  for  me?  I  will  pay  you  well, 
boy." 

I  promised  very  readily  to  do  my  best  to  serve  him,  but. 


320  LORN  A  DOONE, 

of  course,  would  take  no  money  for  it,  not  being  so  poor 
as  that  came  to.  Accordingly,  on  the  day  following  I 
managed  to  set  the  men  at  work  on  the  other  side  of  the 
farm,  especially  that  inquisitive  and  busybody  John  Fry, 
who  would  pry  out  almost  anything  for  the  pleasure  of 
telling  his  wife;  and  then,  with  Uncle  Reuben  mounted  on 
my  ancient  Peggy,  I  made  foot  for  the  westward,  directly 
after  breakfast.  Uncle  Ben  refused  to  go  unless  I  would 
take  a  loaded  gun,  and  indeed  it  was  always  wise  to  do  so 
in  those  days  of  turbulence;  and  none  the  less  because  of 
late  more  than  usual  of  our  sheep  had  left  their  skins  be- 
hind them.  This,  as  I  need  hardly  say,  was  not  to  be 
charged  to  the  appetite  of  the  Doones,  for  they  always  said 
that  they  were  not  butchers  (although  upon  that  subject 
might  well  be  two  opinions);  and  their  practice  was  to 
make  the  shepherds  kill  and  skin,  and  quarter  for  them, 
and  sometimes  carry  to  the  Doone-gate  the  prime  among 
the  fatlings,  for  fear  of  any  bruising,  which  spoils  the  look 
at  table.  But  the  worst  of  it  was  that  ignorant  folk, 
unaware  of  their  fastidiousness,  scored  to  them,  the  sheep 
they  lost  by  lower-born  marauders,  and  so  were  afraid  to 
speak  of  it;  and  the  issue  of  this  error  was  that  a  farmer 
with  five  or  six  hundred  sheep  could  never  command,  on 
his  wedding-day,  a  prime  saddle  of  mutton  for  dinner. 

To  return  now  to  my  Uncle  Ben — and  indeed  he  would 
not  let  me  go  more  than  three  land-yards  from  him — there 
was  very  little  said  between  us  along  the  lane  and  across 
the  hill,  although  the  day  was  pleasant.  I  could  see  that 
he  was  half  amiss  with  his  mind  about  the  business,  and 
not  so  full  of  security  as  an  elderly  man  should  keep  him- 
self.    Therefore,  out- 1  spake,  and  said: 

'^  Uncle  Reuben,  have  no  fear.  I  know  every  inch  of 
the  ground,  sir,  and  there  is  no  danger  nigh  us." 

'Tear,  boy!  Who  ever  thought  of  fear?  ^Tis  the  last 
thing  would  come  across  me.  Pretty  things  those  prim- 
roses." 

At  once  I  thought  of  Lorna  Doone,  the  little  maid  of  six 
years  back,  and  how  my  fancy  went  with  her.  Could 
Lorna  ever  think  of  me?  Was  I  not  a  lout  gone  by,  only 
fit  for  loach-sticking?  Had  I  ever  seen  a  face  fit  to  think 
of  near  her?  The  sudden  flash,  the  quickness,  the  bright 
desire  to  know  one's  heart,  and  not  withhold  her  own  from 


MASTER  HUCKABACK  FAILS  OF  WARRANT.        121 

it,  the  soft  withdrawal  of  rich  eyes,  the  longing  to  love 
somebody,  anybody,  anything,  not  imbued  with  wicked- 
ness. 

My  uncle  interrupted  me,  misliking  so  much  silence 
no\f ,  with  the  naked  woods  falling  over  us.  For  we  were 
come  to  Bagworthy  forest,  the  blackest  and  the  loneliest 
place  of  all  that  keep  the  sun  out.  Even  now  in  winter- 
time, with  most  of  the  wood  unriddled,  and  the  rest  of  it 
pinched  brown,  it  hung  around  us  like  a  cloak,  containing 
little  comfort.  I  kept  quite  close  to  Peggy's  head,  and 
Peggy  kept  quite  close  to  me,  and  pricked  her  ears  at 
everything.  However,  we  saw  nothing  there  except  a  few 
old  owls  and  hawks,  and  a  magpie  sitting  all  alone,  until 
we  came  to  the  bank  of  the  hill,  where  the  pony  could  not 
climb  it.  Uncle  Ben  was  very  loath  to  get  otf,  because  the 
pony  seemed  company,  and  he  thought  he  could  gallop 
away  on  her,  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst;  but  I  per- 
suaded him  that  now  he  must  go  to  the  end  of  it.  There- 
fore we  made  Peggy  fast,  in  a  place  where  we  could  find 
her,  and  speaking  cheerfully  as  if  there  was  nothing  to  be 
afraid  of,  he  took  his  staff,  and  I  my  gun,  to  climb  the 
thick  ascent. 

There  was  now  no  path  of  any  kind;  which  added  to  our 
courage  all  it  lessened  of  our  comfort,  because  it  proved 
that  the  robbers  were  not  in  the  habit  of  passing  there. 
And  we  knew  that  we  could  not  go  astray  so  long  as  we 
breasted  the  hill  before  us,  inasmuch  as  it  formed  the  ram- 
part or  side-fence  of  Glen  Doone.  But  in  truth  I  used  the 
right  word  there  for  the  manner  of  our  ascent,  for  the 
ground  came  forth  so  steep  against  us,  and  withal  so 
woody,  that  to  make  any  way  we  must  throw  ourselves  for- 
ward, and  labor  as  at  a  breast-plow.  Eough  and  loamy 
rungs  of  oak-root  bulged  here  and  there  above  their  heads; 
briers  needs  must  speak  with  us,  using  more  of  tooth  than 
tongue;  and  sometimes  bulks  of  rugged  stone,  like  great 
sheep,  stood  across  us.  At  last,  though  very  loath  to  do  it, 
I  was  forced  to  leave  my  gun  behind,  because  I  required 
one  hand  to  drag  myself  up  the  difficulty,  and  one  to  help 
Uncle  Reuben.  And  so  at  last  we  gained  the  top,  and 
looked  forth  the  edge  of  the  forest,  where  the  ground  was 
very  stony  and  like  the  crest  of  a  quarry;  and  no  more 
trees  between  us  and  the  brink  of  cliff  below,  three  hun- 


122  LORNA  DOONE. 

dred  yards  below  it  might  be,  all  strong  slope  and  glid- 
dery.  And  now  for  the  first  time  I  was  amazed  aPt  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  Doone's  stronghold,  and  understood  its 
nature.  For  when  I  had  been  even  in  the  valley,  and 
climbed  the  cliffs  to  escape  from  it,  about  seven  years  agone, 
I  was  no  more  than  a  stripling  boy,  noting  little,  as  boys 
do,  except  for  their  present  purpose,  and  even  that  soon 
done  with.  But  now,  with  the  fame  of  the  Doones,  and 
my  own  recollections,  and  Uncle  Ben's  insistence,  all  my 
attention  was  called  forth,  and  the  end  was  simple  aston- 
ishment. 

The  chine  of  highland  whereon  we  stood  curved  to  the 
right  and  left  of  us,  keeping  about  the  same  elevation,  and 
crowned  with  trees  and  brush-wood.  At  about  half  a  mile 
in  front  of  us,  but  looking  as  if  we  could  throw  a  stone 
to  strike  any  man  upon  it,  another  crest  just  like  our  own 
bowed  around  to  meet  it;  but  failed  by  reason  of  two  nar- 
row clefts,  of  which  we  could  only  see  the  brink.  One  of 
these  clefts  was  the  Doone-gate,  with  a  portcullis  of  rock 
above  it,  and  the  other  was  the  chasm  by  which  I  had 
once  made  entrance.  Betwixt  them,  where  the  hills  ftll 
back  as  in  a  perfect  oval,  traversed  by  the  winding  water, 
lay  a  bright  green  valley,  rimmed  with  sheer  black  rock, 
and  seeming  to  have  sunken  bodily  from  the  bleak,  rough 
heights  above.  It  looked  as  if  no  frost  could  enter,  neither 
winds  go  ruffling;  only  spring,  and  hope,  and  comfort 
breathe  to  one  another.  Even  now  the  rays  of  sunshine 
dwelt  and  fell  back  on  one  another,  whenever  the  clouds 
lifted;  and  the  pale  blue  glimpse  of  the  growing  day 
seemed  to  find  young  encouragement. 

But  for  all  that.  Uncle  Reuben  was  none  the  worse  nor 
better.  He  looked  down  into  Glen  Doone  first  and  sniffed 
as  if  he  were  smelling  it,  like  a  sample  of  goods  from  a 
wholesale  house;  and  then  he  looked  at  the  hills  over 
yonder,  and  then  he  stared  at  me. 

"  See  what  a  pack  of  fools  they  be?'' 

''Of  course  1  do.  Uncle  Ben.  'All  rogues  are  fools,* 
was  my  first  copy,  beginning  of  the  alphabet." 

"Pack  of  stuff,  lad;  though  true  enough,  and  very  good 
for  young  people.  But  see  you  not  how  this  great  Doone 
valley  may  be  taken  in  half  an  hour?" 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure  I  do,  uncle;  if  they  like  to  give  it  up, 
I  mean." 


MASTER  HUCKABACK  FAILS  OF  WAnHAI^T.       US 

"  Three  culverins  on  yonder  hill,  and  three  on  the  top 
of  this  one,  and  we  have  them  under  a  pestle.  Ah,  I  have 
seen  the  wars,  my  lad,  from  Keinton  up  to  Naseby;  and  I 
might  have  been  a  general  now,  if  they  had  taken  my 
advice— ^^" 

But  I  was  not  attending  to  him,  being  drawn  away  on  a 
sudden  by  a  sight  which  never  struck  the  sharp  eyes  of  our 
general.  For  I  had  long  ago  descried  that  little  opening  in 
the  cliff  through  which  I  made  my  exit,  as  before  related, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  valley.  No  bigger  than  a  rabbit- 
hole  it  seemed  from  where  we  stood;  and  yet  of  all  the 
scene  before  me,  that  (from  my  remembrance,  perhaps) 
had  the  most  attraction.  Now  gazing  at  it  with  full 
thought  of  all  that  it  had  cost  me,  I  saw  a  little  figure  come, 
and  pause,  and  pass  into  it.  Something  very  light  and  white, 
nimble,  smooth,  and  elegant,  gone  almost  before  I  knew 
that  anyone  had  been  there;  and  yet  my  heart  came  to  my 
ribs,  and  all  my  blood  was  in  my  face,  and  pride  within 
me  fought  with  shame,  and  vanity  with  self-contempt;  for 
though  seven  years  were  gone,  and  I  from  my  boyhood 
come  to  manhood,  and  all  must  have  forgotten  me,  and  I 
had  lialf  forgotten;  at  that  moment,  once  for  all,  I  felt  that  I 
was  face  to  face  with  fate  (however  poor  it  may  be),  weal 
or  woe,  in  Lorna  Doone. 


124  LonNA  DOONE. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

LORITA    GROWIInTG   FORMIDABLE. 

Having  reconnoitered  thus  the  position  of  the  enemy. 
Master  Huckaback,  on  the  homeward  road,  cross-examined 
me  in  a  manner  not  at  all  desirable;  for  he  had  noted  my 
confusion  and  eager  gaze  at  something  unseen  by  him  in 
the  valley,  and  thereupon  he  made  up  his  mind  to  know 
everything  about  it.  Iw  this,  however,  he  partly  failed; 
for,  though  I  was  no  hand  at  fence,  and  would  not  tell  him 
a  falsehood,  I  managed  so  to  hold  my  peace  that  he  put 
himself  upon  the  wrong  track,  and  continued  thereon  with 
many  vaunts  of  his  shrewdness  and  experience,  and  some 
chuckles  at  my  simplicity.  Thus  much,  however,  he 
learned  aright,  that  1  had  been  in  the  Doone  valley  several 
years  before,  and  might  be  brought,  upon  strong  induce- 
ment, to  venture  there  again.  But  as  to  the  mode  of  my 
getting  in,  the  things  I  saw,  and  my  thoughts  upon  them, 
he  not  only  failed  to  learn  the  truth,  but  certified  himself 
into  an  obstinacy  of  error  from  which  no  after-knowledge 
was  able  to  deliver  him.  And  this  he  did  not  only  because 
I  happened  to  say  very  little,  but  forasmuch  as  he  disbe- 
lieved half  of  the  truth  I  told  him,  through  his  own  too 
great  sagacity. 

Upon  one  point,  however,  he  succeeded  more  easily  than 
he  expected,  viz.,  in  making  me  promise  to  visit  the  place 
again,  as  soon  as  occasion  offered,  and  to  hold  my  own 
counsel  about  it.  But  I  could  not  help  smiling  at  one 
thing,  that,  according  to  his  point  of  view,  my  own  coun- 
sel meant  my  own  and  Master  Reuben  Huckaback^s. 

Now  he  being  gone,  as  he  went  next  day  to  his  favorite 
town  of  Dulverton,  and  leaving  behind  him  shadowy 
promise  of  the  mountains  he  would  do  for  me,  my  spirit 
began  to  burn  and  pant  for  something  to  go  on  with;  and 
nothing  showed  a  braver  hope  of  movement  and  adventure 


LOBNA  GROWING  FORMIDABLE,  125 

than  a  lonely  visit  to  Glen  Pooue,  by  way  of  the  psrilous 
passage  discovei-ed  in  my  boyhood.  Therefore  I  wwiited  for 
nothing  more  than  the  slow  arrival  of  new  small-clothes 
made  by  a  good  tailor  at  Porlock,  for  I  was  wishful  to  look 
my  best;  and  when  they  were  come  and  approved..  I 
started,  regardless  of  the  expense,  and  forgetting  (like  a 
fool)  how  badly  they  would  take  the  water. 

What  with  urging  of  the  tailor,  and  my  own  misgivings, 
the  time  was  now  come  round  again  to  the  high-day  of  St. 
Valentine,  when  all  our  maids  were  full  of  lovers,  and  all 
the  lads  looked  foolish.  And  none  of  them  more  sheepish 
or  innocent  than  myself,  albeit  twenty-one  years  old,  and 
not  afraid  of  men  much,  but  terrified  of  women,  at  least  if 
they  were  comely.  And  what  of  all  things  scared  me  most 
was  the  thought  of  rny  own  size,  and  knowledge  of  my 
strength,  which  came,  like  knots,  upon  me  daily.  In 
honest  truth  I  tell  this  thing  (which  often  since  hath  puz- 
zled me,  when  I  came  to  mix  with  men  more),  I  was  to 
that  degree  ashamed  of  my  thickness  and  my  stature,  in 
the  presence  of  a  woman,  that  I  would  not  put  a  trunk  of 
wood  on  the  fire  in  the  kitchen,  but  let  Annie  scold  me 
well,  with  a  smile  to  follow,  and  with  her  own  plump 
hands  lift  up  a  little  log  and  fuel  it.  Many  a  time  I 
longed  to  be  no  bigger  than  John  Fry  was;  whom  now 
(when  insolent)  I  took  with  my  left  hand  by  the  waist-stuff 
and  set  him  on  my  hat,  and  gave  him  little  chance  to  tread 
it,  until  he  spoke  of  his  family,  and  requested  to  come 
down  again. 

Now,  taking  for  good  omen  this,  that  I  was  a  seven-year 
Valentine,  though  much  too  big  for  a  Cupidon,  I  chose  a 
seven-foot  staff  of  ash,  and  fixed  a  loach-fork  in  it,  to  look 
as  I  had  looked  before;  and  leaving  word  upon  matters  of 
business,  out  of  the  back-door  I  went,  and  so  through  the 
little  orchard,  and  down  the  brawling  Lynn-brook.  Not 
being  now  so  afraid,  I  struck  across  the  thicket  land 
between  the  meeting  waters,  and  came  upon  the  Bagworthy 
stream  near  the  great  black  whirlpool.  Nothing  amazed 
me  so  much  as  to  find  how  shallow  the  stream  now  looked 
to  me,  although  the  pool  was  still  as  black  and  greedy  as 
it  used  to  be.  And  still  the  great  rocky  slide  was  dark  and 
difficult  to  climb;  though  the  water,  which  once  had  taken 
my  knees,  was  satisfied  now  with  my  ankles.     After  some 


126  LORNA  DOONE, 

labor,  I  reached  the  top;  and  halted  to  look  about  me  well, 
before  trusting  to  broad  daylight. 

The  winter  (as  I  said  before)  had  been  a  very  mild  one; 
and  now  the  spring  was  toward  so  that  the  bank  and  bush 
were  touched  with  it.  The  valley  into  which  I  gazed  was 
fair  with  early  promise,  having  shelter  from  the  wind,  and 
taking  all  the  sunshine.  The  willow-bushes  over  the  stream 
hung  as  if  they  were  angling  with  tasseled  floats  of  gold 
and  silver,  bursting  like  a  bean-pod.  Between  them  came 
the  water  laughing,  like  a  maid  at  her  own  dancing,  and 
spread  with  that  young  blue  which  never  lives  beyond  the 
April.  And  on  either  bank  the  meadow  ruffled  as  the  breeze 
came  by,  .opening  (through  new  tufts  of  green)  daisy-bud 
or  celandine,  or  a  shy  glimpse  now  and  then  of  the  love- 
lorn primrose. 

Though  I  am  so  blank  of  wit,  or  perhaps  for  that  same 
reason,  these  little  things  come  and  dwell  with  me,  and  I 
am  happy  about  them,  and  long  for  nothing  better.  I 
feel  with  every  blade  of  grass,  as  if  it  had  a  history;  and 
make  a  child  of  every  bud,  as  though  it  knew  and  loved 
me.  And  being  so,  they  seem  to  tell  me  of  my  own  delus- 
ions, how  I  am  no  more  than  they,  except  in  self- 
importance. 

While  I  was  forgetting  much  of  many  things  that  harm 
one,  and  letting  of  my  thoughts  go  wild  to  sounds  and 
sights  of  nature,  a  sweeter  note  than  thrush  or  ouzel  ever 
woed  a  mate  in  floated  on  the  valley  breeze  at  the  quiet 
turn  of  sundown.  The  words  were  of  an  ancient  song, 
fit  to  cry  or  laugh  at: 

"  Love,  and  if  there  be  one. 
Come  my  love  to  be, 
My  love  is  for  the  one 
Loving  unto  me. 

"Not  for  me  the  show,  love. 
Of  a  gilded  bliss; 
Only  thou  must  know,  love. 
What  my  value  is. 

**If  in  all  the  earth,  love, 
Thou  hast  none  but  me. 
This  shall  be  my  worth,  love. 
To  be  cheap  to  thee. 


LOBNA  GROWING  FORMIDABLE.  127 

"  But  if  so  thou  ever 
Strivest  to  be  free, 
'Twill  be  my  endeavor 
To  be  dear  to  thee. 

*' Hence  may  I  ensue,  love. 
All  a  woman's  due; 
Comforting  my  true-love 
With  a  love  as  true." 

All  this  I  took  in  with  great  eagerness,  not  for  the  sake 
of  the  meaning  (which  is  no  doubt  an  allegory),  but  for  the 
power,  and  softness,  and  richness,  of  the  singing,  which 
seemed  to  me  better  than  we  ever  had  even  in  Oare  church. 
But  all  the  time  I  kept  myself  in  a  black  niche  of  the  rock, 
where  the  fall  of  the  water  began,  lest  the  sweet  singer  (espy- 
ing me)  should  be  alarmed,  and  flee  away.  But  presently 
I  ventured  to  look  forth  where  a  bush  was,  and  then  I 
beheld  the  loveliest  sight — one  glimpse  of  which  was  enough 
to  make  me  kneel  in  the  coldest  water. 

By  the  side  of  the  stream  she  was  coming  to  me,  even 
among  tlie  primroses,  as  if  she  loved  tliem  all;  and  every 
flower  looked  the  brighter,  as  her  eyes  were  on  them.  I 
could  not  see  what  her  face  was,  my  heart  so  awoke  and 
trembled;  only  that  her  hair  was  flowing  from  a  wreath  of 
white  violets,  and  the  grace  of  her  coming  was  like  the 
appearance  of  the  first  wind-flower.  The  pale  gleam  over 
the  western  cliffs  threw  a  shadow  of  light  behind  her,  as  if 
the  sun  were  lingering.  Never  do  I  see  that  light  from 
the  closing  of  the  west,  even  in  these  my  aged  days,  with- 
out thinking  of  her.  Ah  me,  if  it  comes  to  that,  what  do 
I  see  of  earth  or  heaven  without  thinking  of  her? 

The  tremulous  thrill  of  her  song  was  hanging  on  her 
open  lips;  and  she  glanced  around  as  if  the  birds  were 
accustomed  to  make  answer.  To  me  it  was  a  thing  of 
terror  to  behold  such  beauty,  and  feel  myself  the  while  to 
be  so  very  low  and  common.  But  scarcely  knowing  what 
I  did,  as  if  a  rope  were  drawing  me,  1  came  from  the  dark 
mouth  of  the  chasm,  and  stood,  afraid  to  look  at  her. 

She  was  turning  to  fly,  not  knowing  me,  and  frightened, 
perhaps,  at  my  stature,  when  I  fell  on  the  grass  (as  I  fell 
before  her  seven  years  agone  that  day),  and  I  just  said, 
*'  Lorna  Doone!" 

She  knew  me  at  once,  from  my  manner  and  ways,  and  a 


128  LORNA  DOONB. 

smile  broke  through  her  trembling,  as  sunshine  comes 
through  aspen-leaves;  and  being  so  clever,  she  saw  of 
course  that  she  needed  not  to  fear  me. 

"Oh,  indeed!  "  she  cried,  with  a  feint  of  anger  (because 
she  had  shown  her  cowardice,  and  yet  in  heart  she  was 
laughing);  "oh,  if  you  please,  who  are  you,  sir,  and  how 
do  you  know  my  name?" 

"lam  John  Ridd,'' I  answered;  "the  boy  who  gave 
you  those  beautiful  fish,  when  you  were  only  a  little  thing, 
seven  years  ago  to-day/' 

"  Yes,  the  poor  boy  who  was  frightened  so,  and  obliged 
to  hide  here  in  the  water." 

"  And  do  you  remember  how  kind  you  were,  and  saved 
my  life  by  your  quickness,  and  went  away  riding  upon  a 
great  man's  shoulder,  as  if  you  had  never  seen  me,  and 
yet  looked  back  through  the  willow-trees?" 

"  Oh  3'es,  I  remember  every  thing;  because  it  was  so 
rare  to  see  any  except — I  mean  because  I  happen  to  remem- 
ber. But  you  seem  not  to  remember,  sir,  how  perilous 
this  place  is." 

For  she  had  kept  her  eyes  upon  me;  large  eyes  of  a  soft- 
ness, a  brightness,  and  a  dignity  which  made  me  feel  as  if 
I  must  forever  love  and  yet  forever  know  myself  unworthy — 
unless  themselves  should  fill  with  love,  which  is  the  spring 
of  all  things.  And  so  I  could  not  answer  her,  but  was 
overcome  with  thinking  and  feeling  and  confusion.  Neither 
could  I  look  again;  only  waited  for  the  melody  which  made 
every  word  like  a  poem  to  me — the  melody  of  her  voice. 
But  she  had  not  the  least  idea  of  what  was  going  on  with 
me,  any  more  than  I  myself  had. 

"  I  think.  Master  Ridd,  you  can  not  know,"  she  said, 
with  her  eyes  taken  from  me,  "what  the  dangers  of  thiig 
place  are,  and  the  nature  of  the  people." 

"  Yes,  I  know  enough  of  that;  and  I  am  frightened 
greatly,  all  the  time,  when  I  do  not  look  at  you." 

She  was  too  young  to  answer  me  in  the  style  some  maid- 
ens would  have  used;  the  manner,  I  mean,  which  now  we 
call  from  a  foreign  word  "coquettish."  And  more  than 
that,  she  was  trembling  from  real  fear  of  violence,  lest 
strong  hands  might  be  laid  on  me,  and  a  miserable  end  of 
it.  And,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  grew  afraid — perhaps  from  a 
kind  of  sympathy,  and  because  I  knew  that  evil  comes 
more  readily  than  good  to  us. 


r 

LORN  A  GROWING  FORMIDABLE,  129 

Therefore,  without  more  ado,  or  taking  any  advantage — 
although  I  would  have  been  glad  at  heart,  if  needs  had 
been,  to  kiss  her  (without  any  thought  of  rudeness) — it 
struck  me  that  I  had  better  go,  and  have  no  more  to  say  to 
her  until  next  time  of  coming.  So  would  she  look  the 
more  for  me  and  think  the  more  about  me,  and  not  grow 
weary  of  my  words  and  the  want  of  change  there  is  in  me. 
For,  of  course,  I  knew  what  a  churl  I  was  compared  to  her 
birth  and  appearance;  but  meanwhile  I  might  improve 
myself  and  learn  a  musical  instrument.  "  The  wind  hath 
a  draw  after  flying  straw,''  is  a  saying  we  have  in  Devon- 
shire, made,  perad venture,  by  somebody  who  had  seen  the 
ways  of  women. 

*'  Mistress  Lorna,  I  will  depart " — mark  you,  I  thought 
that  a  powerful  word — "  in  fear  of  causing  disquiet.  If 
any  rogue  shot  me  it  would  grieve  you;  I  make  bold  to 
say  it;  and  it  would  be  the  death  of  mother.  Few 
mothers  have  such  a  son  as  me.  Try  to  think  of  me  now 
and  then,  and  I  will  bring  you  some  new-laid  eggs,  for  our 
young  blue  hen  is  beginning." 

**  I  thank  you  heartily,"  said  Lorna;  '*  but  you  need  not 
come  to  see  me.  You  can  put  them  in  my  little  bower, 
where  I  almost  always — I  mean  whither  daily  I  repair  to 
read  and  to  be  away  from  them." 

*'Only  show  me  where  it  is.  Thrice  a  day  I  will  come 
and  stop " 

**  Nay,  Master  Ridd,  I  would  never  show  thee — never, 
because  of  peril — only  that  so  happens  it  thou  hast  found 
the  way  already." 

And  she  smiled  with  a  light  that  made  me  care  to  cry 
out  for  no  other  way,  except  to  her  dear  heart.  But  only 
to  myself  I  cried  for  anything  at  all,  having  enough  of 
man  in  me  to  be  bashful  with  young  maidens.  So  I 
touched  her  white  hand  softly  when  she  gave  it  to  me,  and 
(fancying  that  she  had  sighed)  was  touched  at  heart  about 
it,  and  resolved  to  yield  her  all  my  goods,  although  my 
mother  was  living;  and  then  grew  angry  with  myself  (for 
a  mile  or  more  of  walking)  to  think  she  would  condescend 
so;  and  then,  for  the  rest  of  the  homeward  road,  was  mad 
with  every  man  in  the  world  who  would  dai-e  to  think  of 
having  her. 


130  LORNA  BOONE. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

JOHN    IS   CLEARLY   BEWITCHED. 

To  FORGET  one's  luck  of  life,  to  forget  the  cark  of  care 
and  withering  of  young  fingers;  not  to  feel,  or  not  be 
moved  by,  all  the  change  of  thought  and  heart,  from  large 
young  heat  to  the  sinewy  lines  and  dry  bones  of  old  age — 
this  is  what  I  have  to  do  ere  ever  I  can  make  you  know 
(even  as  a  dream  is  known)  how  I  loved  my  Lorna.  I, 
myself,  can  never  know;  never  can  conceive,  or  treat  it  as  a 
thing  of  reason;  never  can  behold  myself  dwelling  in  the 
midst  of  it,  and  think  that  this  was  I;  neither  can  I 
wander  far  from  perpetual  thought  of  it.  Perhaps  I  have 
two  farrows  of  pigs  ready  for  the  chapman;  perhaps  I  have 
ten  stones  of  wool  waiting  for  the  factor.  It  is  all  the 
same:  I  look  at  both,  and  what  I  say  to  myself  is  this: 
'^  Which  would  Lorna  choose  of  them?''  Of  course,  I  am 
a  fool  for  this;  any  man  ma  call  me  so,  and  I  will  not 
quarrel  with  him,  unless  he  guess  my  secret.  Of  course,  I 
fetch  my  wit,  if  it  be  worth  the  fetchin^,  back  again  to 
business.  But  there  my  heart  is  and  must  be;  and  all 
who  like  to  try  can  cheat  me,  except  upon  parish  matters. 

This  week  1  could  do  little  more  than  dream  and  dream 
and  rove  about,  seeking  by  perpetual  change  to  find  the 
way  back  to  myself.  I  c  ^ed  not  for  the  people  round  me, 
neither  took  delight  in  vi  tuals;  but  made  believe  to 
eat  and  drink,  and  blushed  at  any  questions.  And  being 
called  the  master  now,  head-l..rmer,  and  chief  yoeman, 
it  irked  me  much  that  any  one  should  take  advantage  of 
me;  yet  every  body  did  so  as  soon  as  ever  it  was  known 
that  my  wits  were  gone  moon-raking.  For  that  was  the 
way  they  looked  at  it,  not  being  able  to  comprehend  the 
greatness  and  the  loftiness.  Neither  do  I  blame  them 
much;  for  the  wisest  thing  is  to  laugh  at  people  when  we 
cannot  understand  them.     1,  for  my  part,  took  no  notice; 


JOHN  IS  CLEARL  T  BEWITCHED.  131 

but  in  my  lieart  despised  them  as  beings  of  a  lesser  nature, 
who  never  had  seen  Lorna.  Yet  I  was  vexed,  and  rubbed 
myself,  when  John  Fry  spread  all  over  the  farm,  and  even 
at  the  shoeing-forge,  that  a  mad  dog  had  come  and  bitten 
me  from  the  other  side  of  Moll  and. 

This  seems  little  to  me  now;  and  so  it  might  to  any  one; . 
but  at  the  time  it  worked  me  up  to  a  fever  of  indignity. 
To  make  a  mad  dog  of  Lorna,  to  compare  all  my  imagin- 
ings (which  were  strange,  I  do  assure  you — the  faculty  not 
being  apt  to  work),  to  count  the  raising  of  my  soul  no 
more  than  hydrophobia!  All  this  acted  on  me  so  that  I 
gave  John  Fry  the  soundest  thrashing  that  ever  a  slieaf  of 
good  corn  deserved,  or  a  bundle  of  tares  was  blessed  with. 
Afterward  he  went  home,  too  tired  to  tell  his  wife  the 
meaning  of  it;  but  it  proved  of  service  to  both  of  them, 
and  an  example  for  their  children. 

Now  the  climate  of  this  country  is — so  far  as  I  can  make 
of  it — to  throw  no  man  into  extremes;  and  if  he  throw 
himself  so  far,  to  pluck  him  back  by  change  of  weather 
and  the  need  of  looking  after  things.  Lest  we  should  be 
like  the  Southerns,  for  whom  the  sky  does  every  thing, 
and  men  sit  under  a  wall  and  watch  both  food  and  fruit 
come  beckoning.  Their  sky  is  a  mother  to  them;  but  ours 
a  good  stepmother  to  us — fearing  to  hurt  by  indulgence, 
and  knowing  that  severity  and  change  of  mode  are 
wholesome. 

The  spring  being  now  too  forward,  a  check  to  it  was 
needful;  and  in  the  early  part  of  March  there  came  a 
change  of  weather.  All  the  young  growth  was  arrested 
by  a  dry  wind  from  the  east,  which  made  both  face  and 
fingers  burn  when  a  man  was  doing  ditching.  The  lilacs 
and  the  woodbines,  just  crowding  forth  in  little  tufts, 
close  kerneling  their  blossom,  were  ruffled  back,  like  a 
sleeve  turned  up,  and  nicked  with  brown  at  the  corners. 
In  the  hedges  any  man,  unless  his  eyes  were  very  dull,  could 
see  the  mischief  doing.  The  russet  of  the  young  elm-bloom 
was  fain  to  be  in  its  scale  again;  but  having  pushed  forth, 
there  must  be,  and  turn  to  a  tawny  color.  The  hangers 
of  the  hazel,  too,  having  shed  their  dust  to  make  the  nuts, 
did  not  spread  their  little  combs  and  dry  them,  as  they 
ou^ht  to  do;  but  shriveled  at  the  base  and  fell,  as  if  a 
knife  had  cut  them.     And  more  than  all  to  notice  was  (at 


132  LORN  A  BOONE. 

least  about  the  hedges)  the  shuddering  of  everything  and 
the  shivering  sound  among  them  toward  the  feeble  sun; 
such  as  we  make  to  a  poor  fire-place  when  several  doors  are 
open.  Sometimes  I  put  my  face  to  warm  against  the  soft, 
rough  maple-stem,  which  feels  like  the  foot  of  a  red  deer; 
but  the  pitiless  east  wind  came  through  all,  and  took  and 
shook  the  caved  hedge  aback  till  its  knees  were  knocking 
together,  and  nothing  could  be  shelter.  Then  would  any- 
one having  blood,  and  trying  to  keep  at  home  with  it,  run 
to  a  sturdy  tree  and  hope  to  eat  his  food  behind  it,  and 
look  for  a  little  sun  to  come  and  warm  his  feet  in  the 
shelter.  And  if  it  did  he  might  strike  his  breast,  and  try 
to  think  he  was  warmer. 

But  when  a  man  -came  home  at  night,  after  long  day's 
labor,  knowing  that  the  days  increased,  and  so  his  care 
should  multiply;  still  he  found  enough  of  light  to  show 
Jiim  what  the  day  had  done  against  him  in  his  garden. 
Every  ridge  of  new-turned  earth  looked  like  an  old  man's 
muscles,  honey-combed,  and  standing  out  void  of  spring, 
and  powdery.  Every  plant  that  had  rejoiced  in  passing 
such  a  winter  now  was  cowering,  turned  away,  unfit  to 
meet  the  consequence.  Flowing  sap  had  stopped  its 
course;  fluted  lines  show  want  of  food;  and  if  you  pinched 
the  topmost  spray,  there  was  no  rebound  or  firmness. 

*'  We  think  a  good  deal,  in  a  quiet  way — when  people  ask 
lis  about  them — of  some  fine,  upstanding  pear-trees,  grafted 
by  my  grand fatlier,  who  had  been  very  greatly  respected. 
And  he  got  those  grafts  by  sheltering  a  poor  Italian  soldier, 
in  the  time  of  James  the  First,  a  man  who  never  could  do 
enough  to  show  his  grateful  memories.  How  he  came  to 
our  place  is  a  very  difficult  story  which  I  never  understood 
riglitly,  having  Jheard  it  from  my  mother.  At  any  rate, 
there  the  pear-trees  were,  and  there  they  are  to  this  very 
day;  and  I  wish  every  one  could  taste  their  fruit,  old  as 
they  are,  and  rugged. 

Now  these  fine  trees  had  taken  advantage  of  the  west 
winds,  and  the  moisture,  and  the  promise  of  the  spring- 
time, so  as  to  fill  the  tips  of  the  spray-wood  and  the  rowels 
all  up  the  branches  with  a  crowd  of  eager  blossom.  Not 
that  they  were  yet  in  bloom,  nor  even  showing  whiteness, 
only  that  some  of  the  cones  were  opening  at  the  side  of  the 
cap   which  pinched  them;  and  there  you  might  count. 


JOHN  IS  CLEARL  Y  BEWITCHED.  133 

perhaps,  a  dozen  knobs,  like  very  little  buttons,  but  grooved, 
and  lined,  and  huddling  close,  to  make  room  for  one  an- 
other. And  among  these  buds  were  gray-green  blades, 
scarce  bigger  than  a  huir  almost,  yet  curving  so  as  if  their 
purpose  was  to  shield  the  blossom. 

Other  of  the  spur-points,  standing  on  the  other  wood, 
where  the  sap  was  not  so  eager,  had  not  burst  their  tunic 
yet,  but  were  flayed  and  naked  with  light,  casting  off  the 
husk  of  brown  in  three-cornered  patches,  as  I  have  seen  a 
Scotchman's  plaid,  or  as  his  leg  shows  through  it.  These 
buds,  at  a  distance,  looked  as  if  the  sky  had  been  raining 
cream  upon  them. 

Now  all  this  fair  delight  to  the  eyes,  and  good  promise 
to  the  palate,  was  marred  and  baffled  by  the  wind  and 
cutting  of  the  night-frosts.  The  opening  cones  were  struck 
with  brown,  in  betwet  \  the  button  buds,  and  on  the  scapes 
that  shielded  them;  while  the  foot  part  of  the  cover  hung 
like  rags,  peeled  back  and  quivering.  And  there  the  little 
stalk  of  each;  which  might  have  been  a  pear,  God  willing, 
had  a  ring  around  its  base,  and  sought  a  chance  to  drop 
and  die.  The  others,  which  had  not  opened  comb,  but 
only  prepared  to  do  it,  were  a  little  better  off,  but  still  very 
brown  and  unked,  and  shriveling  in  doubt  of  health,  and 
neither  peart  nor  lusty, 

Now  this  I  have  not  told  because  I  know  the  way  to  do 
it,  for  that  I  do  not,  neither  yet  have  seen  a  man  who  did 
know.  It  is  wonderful  how  we  look  at  things,  and  never 
think  to  notice  them;  and  I  am  as  bad  as  anybody,  unless 
the  thing  to  be  observed  is  a  dog,  or  a  horse,  or  a  maiden. 
And  the  last  of  these  three  I  look  at,  somehow,  without 
knowing  that  I  take  notice,  and  greatly  afraid  to  do  it; 
only  I  knew  afterward  (when  the  time  of  life  was  in  me), 
not,  indeed,  what  the  maiden  was  like,  but  how  she  differed 
from  others. 

Yet  I  have  spoken  about  the  spring,  and  the  failure  of 
fair  promise,  because  I  took  it  to  my  heart  as  token  of  what 
would  come  to  me  in  the  budding  of  my  years  and  hope. 
And  even  then,  being  much  possessed,  and  full  of  a  foolish 
melancholy,  I  felt  a  sad  delight  at  being  doomed  to  blight 
and  loneliness;  not  but  that  I  managed  still  (when  mother 
was  urgent  upon  me)  to  eat  my  share  of  victuals,  and  cuff 
a  man  for  laziness,  and  see  that  a  plowshai-a  made  no 


134  LORNA  DOONE. 

leaps,  and  sleep  of  a  night  without  dreaming.  And  my 
mother  half-believing,  in  her  fondness  and  affection,  that 
what  the  parish  said  was  true  about  a  mad  dog  having 
bitten  me,  and  yet  arguing  that  it  must  be  false  (because 
God  would  have  prevented  him),  my  mother  gave  me  little 
rest  when  I  was  in  the  room  with  her.  Not  that  she 
worried  me  with  questions,  nor  openly  regarded  me  with 
any  unusual  meaning,  but  that  I  knew  she  was  watching 
slyly  whenever  I  took  a  spoon  up;  and  every  hour  or  so 
she  managed  to  place  a  pan  of  water  by  me,  quite  as  if  by 
accident,  and  sometimes  even  to  spill  a  little  upon  my 
shoe  or  coat-sleeve.  But  Betty  Muxworthy  was  worst;  for, 
having  no  fear  about  my  health,  she  made  a  villainous  joke 
of  it,  and  used  to  rush  into  the  kitchen  barking  like  a  dog, 
and  panting,  exclaiming  that  I  had  bitten  her,  and  justice 
she  would  have  on  me,  if  it  cost  her  a  twelvemonth's  wages. 
And  she  always  took  care  to  do  this  thing  just  when  I  had 
crossed  my  legs  in  the  corner  after  supper,  and  leaned  my 
head  against  the  oven,  to  begin  to  think  of  Lorna. 

However,  in  all  things  there  is  comfort,  if  we  do  not 
look  too  hard  for  it;  and  now  I  had  much  satisfaction,  in 
my  uncouth  state,  from  laboring,  by  the  hour  together,  at 
the  hedging  and  the  ditching,  meeting  the  bitter  wind  face 
to  face,  feeling  my  strenglli  increase,  and  hoping  that 
some  one  would  be  proud  of  it.  In  the  rustling  rush  of 
every  gust,  in  the  graceful  bend  of  every  tree,  even  in  the 
"  Lords  and  Ladies,"  clumped  in  the  scoops  of  the  hedge- 
row, and  most  of  all  in  the  soft  primrose,  wrung  by  the 
wind,  but  stealing  back,  and  smiling  when  the  wrath  was 
past— -in  all  of  these,  and  many  others,  there  was  aching 
ecstasy,  delicious  pang  of  Lorna. 

But  however  cold  the  weather  was,  and  however  hard 
the  wind  blew,  one  thing  (more  than  all  the  rest)  worried 
and  perplexed  me.  This  was,  that  I  could  not  settle, 
turn  and  twist  it  as  I  might,  how  soon  I  ought  to  go 
again  upon  a  visit  to  Glen  Doone.  For  I  liked  not  at  all 
the  falseness  of  it  (albeit  against  murderers),  the  creeping 
out  of  sight,  and  hiding,  and  feeling  as  a  spy  might.  And 
even  more  than  this,  I  feared  how  Lorna  might  regard  it; 
whether  I  might  seem  to  her  a  prone  and  blunt  intruder,  a 
country  youth  not  skilled  in  manners,  as  among  the 
quality,  even  when  they  rob  us,     For  I  was  not  surQ  my- 


JOHN  IS  CLEARL  7  BEWITCHED.  135 

^elf  but  that  it  might  be  very  bad  manners  to  go  again  too 
early  without  an  invitation;  and  my  hands  and  face  were 
chapped  so  badly  by  the  bitter  wind,  that  Lorna  might 
count  them  unsightly  things,  and  wish  to  see  no  more  of 
them. 

However,  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  consult  any  one 
upon  this  point,  at  least  in  our  own  neighborhood,  nor 
even  to  speak  of  it  near  home.  But  the  east  wind  holding 
through  the  month,  my  hands  and  face  growing  worse 
and  worse,  and  it  having  occurred  to  me  by  this  time  that 
possibly  Lorna  might  have  chaps,  if  she  came  abroad  at  all, 
and  so  might  like  to  talk  about  them  and  show  her  little 
hands  to  me,  I  resolved  to  take  another  opinion,  so  far  as 
might  be  upon  this  matter,  without  disclosing  the  cir- 
cumstances. 

Now  the  wisest  person  in  all  our  parts  was  reckoned  to 
be  a  certain  wise  woman,  well  known  all  over  Exmoor  by 
the  name  of  "  Mother  Melldrum.''  Her  real  name  was 
"  Maple  Durham,"  as  I  learned  long  afterward;  and  she 
came  of  an  ancient  family,  but  neither  of  Devon  nor 
Somerset.  Nevertheless  she  was  quite  at  home  with  our 
proper  modes  of  divination;  and  knowing  that  we  liked 
them  best — as  each  man  does  his  own  religion — she  wonild 
always  practice  them  for  the  people  of  the  country.  And 
all  the  while  she  would  let  us  know  that  she  kept  a  higher 
and  nobler  mode  for  those  who  looked  down  upon  this 
one,  not  having  been  bred  and  born  to  it. 

Mother  Melldrum  had  two  houses,  or  rather  she  had 
none  at  all,  but  two  homes  wherein  to  find  her,  according 
to  the  time  of  year.  In  summer  she  lived  in  a  pleasant 
cave,  facing  the  cool  side  of  the  hill,  far  inland  near 
Hawkridge,  and  close  above  "  Tarr-steps,"  a  wonderful 
crossing  of  Barle  River,  made  (as  everybody  knows)  by 
Satan,  for  a  wager.  But  throughout  the  winter  she  found 
sea-air  agreeable,  and  a  place  wliere  things  could  be  had 
on  credit,  and  more  occasion  of  talking.  Not  but  what 
she  could  have  credit  (for  every  one  was  afraid  of  her)  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Tarr-steps;  only  there  was  no  one 
handy  owning  things  worth  taking. 

Therefore,  at  the  fall  of  the  leaf,  when  the  woods  grew 
damp  and  irksome,  the  wise  woman  always  set  her  face  to 
the  warmer  cliffs  of  the  Channel;  where  shelter  was,  and 


136  LOBNA  DOONE. 

dry  fern  bedding,  and  folk  to  be  seen  in  the  distance,  from 
a  bank  upon  which  the  sun  shone.  And  there,  as  I  knew 
from  our  John  Fry  (who  had  been  to  her  about  rheuma- 
tism, and  sheep  possessed  with  an  evil  spirit,  and  warts  on 
the  hand  of  his  son,  young  John),  any  one  who  chose 
might  find  her  toward  the  close  of  a  winter  day,  gatliering 
sticks  and  brown  fern  for  fuel,  and  talking  to  herself  tlie 
while,  in  a  hollow  stretch  behind  the  cliifs;  which  foreign- 
ers, who  come  and  go  without  seeing  much  of  Exmoor, 
have  called  the  *' Valley  of  Rocks/' 

This  valley,  or  '^goyal,"  as  we  term  it,  being  small  for  a 
valley,  lies  to  the  west  of  Linton,  about  a  mile  from  the 
town,  perhaps,  and  away  toward  Ley  Manor.  Our  home- 
folk  always  call  it  the  **  Danes,''  or  the  "  Denes;"  which 
is  no  more,  they  tell  me,  than  a  hollow  place,  even  as  the 
word  "  den"  is.  However,  let  that  pass,  for  I  know  very 
little  about  it;  but  the  place  itself  is  a  pretty  one,  though 
nothing  to  frighten  anybody,  unless  he  hath  lived  in  a 
gallipot.  It  is  a  green  rough-sided  hollow,  bending  at  the 
middle,  touched  with  stone  at  either  crest,  and  dotted  here 
and  there  with  slabs  in  and  out  the  brambles.  On  the 
light  hand  is  an  upward  crag,  called  by  some  the  **  Castle," 
easy  enough  to  scale,  and  giving  great  view  of  the  Chan- 
nel. Facing  this  from  the  inland  side  and  the  elbow  of 
the  valley,  a  queer  old  pile  of  rock  arises,  bold  behind  one 
another,  and  quite  enough  to  affright  a  man,  if  it  only 
were  ten  times  larger.  This  is  called  the  "  Devil's  Cheese- 
ring,"  or  the  *^  Devil's  Cheese-knife,"  which  mean  the 
same  thing,  as  our  fathers  were  used  to  eat  their  cheese 
from  a  scoop;  and  perhaps  in  old  time  the  upmost  rock 
(which  has  fallen  away  since  I  knew  it)  was  like  to  such 
an  implement,  if  Satan  eat  cheese  untoasted. 

But  all  the  middle  of  this  valley  was  a  place  to  rest  in; 
to  sit  and  think  that  troubles  were  not,  if  we  would  not 
make  them.  To  know  the  sea,  outside  the  hills,  but 
never  to  behold  it;  only  by  the  sound  of  waves  to  pity 
sailors  laboring.  Then  to  watch  the  sheltered  sun,  coming 
warmly  round  the  turn,  like  a  guest  expected,  full  of 
gentle  glow  and  gladness,  casting  shadow  far  away  as  a 
thing  to  hug  itself,  and  awakening  life  from  dew,  and 
hope  from  every  spreading  bud.  And  then  to  fall  asleep, 
and  dream  that  the  fern  was  all  asparagus. 


JOHN  IS  CLEARLY  BEWITCHED.  137 

Alas!  I  was  too  young  in  those  days  much  to  care  for 
creature  comforts,  or  to  let  pure  palate  have  things  that 
would  improve  it.  Anything  went  down  with  me,  as  it 
does  with  most  of  us.  Too  late  we  know  the  good  from 
bad:  the  knowledge  is  no  pleasure  then,  being  memory's 
medicine  rather  than  the  wine  of  hope. 

Now  Mother  Melldrum  kept  her  winter  in  this  vale  of 
rocks,  sheltering  from  the  wind  and  rain  within  the  DeviFs 
Cheese-ring,  which  added  greatly  to  her  fame,  because  all 
else,  for  miles  around,  were  afraid  to  go  near  it  after  dark, 
or  even  on  a  gloomy  day.  Under  eaves  of  lichened  rock 
she  had  a  winding  passage,  which  none  that  ever  I  knew 
of  durst  enter  but  herself.  And  to  this  place  I  went  to 
seek  her,  in  spite  of  all  misgivings,  upon  a  Sunday  in 
Lenton  season,  when  the  sheep  were  folded. 

Our  parson  (as  if  he  had  known  my  intent)  had  preached 
a  beautiful  sermon  about  the  Witch  of  Endor,  and  the 
perils  of  them  that  meddle  wantonly  with  the  unseen 
Powers;  and  therein  he  referred  especially  to  the  strange 
noise  in  our  neighborhood,  and  upbraided  us  for  want  of 
faith,  and  many  other  backslidings.  We  listened  to  him  very 
earnestly,  for  we  like  to  hear  from  our  betters  about  things 
that  are  beyond  us,  and  to  be  roused  up  now  and  then,  like 
sheep  with  a  good  dog  after  them,  who  can  pull  some  wool 
without  biting.  Nevertheless  we  could  not  see  how  our 
want  of  faith  could  have  made  that  noise,  especially  at 
night-time;  notwithstanding  which  we  believed  it,  and 
hoped  to  do  a  little  better. 

And  so  we  all  came  home  from  church;  and  most  of  the 
people  dined  with  us,  as  they  always  do  on  Sundays,  be- 
cause of  the  distance  to  go  home,  with  only  words  inside 
them.  The  parson,  who  always  sat  next  to  mother,  was 
afraid  that  he  might  have  vexed  us,  and  would  not  have 
the  best  piece  of  meat,  according  to  his  custom.  But  soon 
we  put  him  at  his  ease,  and  showed  him  we  were  proud  of 
him;  and  then  he  made  no  more  to  do,  but  accepted  the 
best  of  the  sirloin. 


138  ".OBNA  DOONE. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

WITCHERY  LEADS  TO  WITCHCRAFT. 

Although  well  nigh  the  end  of  March,  the  wind  blew 
wild  and  piercing,  as  I  went  on  foot  that  afternoon  to 
Mother  Melldrum's  dwelling.  It  was  safer  not  to  take  a 
horse,  lest  (if  anything  vexed  her)  she  should  put  a  spell 
upon  him,  as  had  been  done  to  Farmer  Snowe's  stable  by 
the  wise  woman  of  Simonsbath. 

The  sun  was  low  on  the  edge  of  the  hills  by  the  time  I 
entered  the  valley,  for  I  could  not  leave  home  till  the 
cattle  were  tended,  and  the  distance  was  seven  miles  or 
more.  The  shadows  of  rocks  fell  far  and  deep,  and  the 
brown  dead  fern  was  fluttering,  and  brambles  with  their 
sere  leaves  hanging,  swayed  their  tatters  to  and  fro,  with  a 
red  look  on  them.  In  patches  underneath  the  crags  a  few 
wild  goats  were  browsing;  then  they  tossed  their  horns,  and 
fled,  and  leaped  on  ledges,  and  stared  at  me.  Moreover, 
the  sound  of  the  sea  came  up,  and  went  the  length  of  the 
valley,  and  there  it  lapped  on  a  butt  of  rocks,  and  mur- 
mured like  a  shell. 

Taking  things  one  with  another,  and  feeling  all  the  lone- 
someness,  and  having  no  stick  with  me  I  was  much  in- 
clined to  go  briskly  back,  and  come  at  a  better  season. 
And  when  I  beheld  a  tall  gray  shape  of  something  or  an- 
other, moving  at  the  lower  end  of  the  valley,  where  the 
shade  was,  it  gave  me  such  a  stroke  of  fear,  after  many 
others,  that  my  thumb,  which  lay  in  mother's  Bible, 
(brought  in  my  big  pocket  for  the  sake  of  safety),  shook  so 
much  that  it  came  out,  and  I  could  not  get  it  in  again. 
^*This  serves  me  right,"  I  said  to  myself,  **for  tampering 
with  Beelzebub.     Oh  that  I  had  listened  to  Parson!" 

And  thereupon  I  struck  aside;  not  liking  to  run  away 
quite,  as  some  people  might  call  it;  but  seeking  to  look 
like  a  wanderer  who  was  come  to  see  the  valley,  and  had 


WITGBERT  LEADS  TO  WITCHCRAFT.  139 

seen  almost  enough  of  it.  Herein  I  should  have  succeeded, 
and  gone  home,  and  then  been  angry  at  my  want  of  courage, 
but  tliat  on  the  very  turn  and  bending  of  my  footsteps  the 
woman  in  the  distance  lifted  up  her  staff  to  me,  so  that  I 
was  bound  to  stop. 

And  now,  being  brought  face  to  face,  by  the  will  of  God 
(as  one  might  say^,  with  any  thing  that  might  come  of  it, 
I  kept  myself  quite  straight  and  stiff,  and  thrust  away  all 
white  feather,  trusting  in  my  Bible  still,  hoping  that  it 
would  protect  me,  though  I  had  disobeyed  it.  But  upon 
that  remembrance,  my  conscience  took  me  by  the  leg,  so 
that  I  could  not  go  forward. 

All  this  while  the  fearful  woman  was  coming  near  and 
more  near  to  me;  and  I  was  glad  to  sit  down  on  a  rock, 
because  my  knees  v,  :re  shaking  so.  I  tried  to  think  of 
many  things,  but  none  of  them  would  come  to  me;  and  I 
could  not  take  my  eyes  away,  though  I  prayed  God  to  be 
near  me. 

But  when  she  was  come  so  nigh  to  me  that  I  could  descry 
her  features,  there  was  something  in  her  countenance  that 
made  me  not  dislike  her.  She  looked  as  if  she  had  been 
visited  by  a-many  troubles,  and  had  felt  them  one  by  one; 
yet  held  enough  of  kindly  nature  still  to  grieve  for  others. 
Long  white  hair,  on  either  side,  was  falling  down  below 
her  chin;  and  through  her  wrinkles  clear  bright  eyes 
seemed  to  spread  themselves  upon  me.  Though  I  had 
plenty  of  time  to  think,  I  was  taken  by  surprise  no  less, 
and  unable  to  say  anything;  yet  eager  to  hear  the  silence 
broken,  and  longing  for  a  noise  or  two. 

'*  Thou  art  not  come  to  me,"  she  said,  looking  through 
my  simple  face,  as  if  it  were  but  glass  "  to  be  struck  for 
bone-shave,  nor  to  be  blessed  for  barn-gun.  Give  me 
forth  thy  hand,  John  Ridd;  and  tell  why  thou  art  come 
to  me." 

But  I  was  so  much  amazed  at  her  knowing  my  name  and 
all  about  me,  that  I  feared  to  place  my  hand  in  her  power, 
or  even  my  tongue  by  speaking. 

''Have  no  fear  of  me,  my  son;  I  have  no  gift  to  harm 
thee,  and  if  I  had,  it  should  be  idle.  Now,  if  thou  hast 
any  wit,  tell  me  why  I  love  thee." 

*'  I  never  had  any  wit,  mother,"  I  answered,  in  our 
Devonshire  way;  ''  and  never  set  eyes  oa  thee  before,  to 
the  furthest  of  my  knowledge." 


140  LORN  A  DOONE. 

"  And  yet  I  know  thee  as  well,  John,  as  if  thou  wert  my 
grandson.  Remember  you  the  old  Oare  oak,  and  the  bog 
at  the  head  of  Exe,  and  the  child  who  would  have  died 
there,  but  for  thy  strength  and  courage,  and  most  of  all, 
thy  kindness?  That  was  my  grandaughter,  John;  and  all  I 
have  on  earth  to  love." 

Now  that  she  came  to  speak  of  it,  with  the  place  and 
that,  so  clearly,  I  remembered  all  about  it  (a  thing  that 
happened  last  August),  and  thought  how  stupid  I  must 
have  been  not  to  learn  more  of  the  little  girl  who  had  fallen 
into  the  black  pit,  with  a  basketful  of  whortleberries,  and 
who  might  have  been  gulfed  if  her  little  dog  had  not  spied 
me  in  the  distance.  I  carried  her  on  my  back  to  mother; 
and  then  we  dressed  her  all  anew,  and  took  her  where  she 
ordered  us;  but  she  did  not  tell  us  who  she  was,  nor  any- 
thing more  than  her  Christian  name,  and  that  she  was 
eight  years  old,  and  fond  of  fried  batatas.  And  we  did 
not  seek  to  ask  her  more;  as  our  manner  is  with  visitors. 

But  thinking  of  this  little  story,  and  seeing  how  she 
looked  at  me,  I  lost  my  fear  of  Mother  Melldrum,  and 
began  to  like  her;  partly  because  I  had  helped  her  grand- 
child, and  partly  that,  if  she  were  so  wise,  no  need  would 
have  been  for  me  to  save  the  little  thing  from  drowning. 
Therefore  I  stood  up  and  said,  though  scarcely  yet  estab- 
lished in  my  power  against  hers: 

*'  Good  mother,  the  shoe  she  lost  was  in  the  mire,  and 
not  with  us.  And  we  could  not  match  it,  although  we 
gave  her  a  pair  of  sister  Lizzie's." 

^^My  son,  what  care  I  for  her  shoe?  How  simple  thou 
art,  and  foolish,  according  to  the  thoughts  of  some.  Now 
tell  me,  for  thou  canst  not  lie,  what  has  brought  thee  to 
me?" 

Being  so  ashamed  and  bashful,  I  was  half  inclined  to  tell 
her  a  lie,  until  she  said  that  I  could  not  do  it;  and  then  I 
knew  that  I  could  not. 

**  I  am  come  to  know,"  I  said,  looking  at  a  rock  the 
while,  to  keep  my  voice  from  shaking,  "  when  I  may  go  to 
see  Lorna  Doone." 

No  more  could  I  say,  though  my  mind  was  charged  to 
ask  fifty  other  questions.  But  although  I  looked  away,  it 
was  plain  that  I  had  asked  enough.  I  felt  that  the  wise 
woman  gazed  at  me  in  wrath  as  well  as  sorrow;  and  then  I 


WITCHERY  LEADS  TO  WITCHCRAFT,  141 

grew  angi'y  that  any  one  should  seem  to  make  light  of 
Lorna. 

"John  Ridd,"  said  the  woman,  observing  this  (for  now 
I  faced  her  bravely),  *'of  whom  art  thou  speaking?  Is  it 
a  child  of  the  men  who  slew  your  father?" 

"I  cannot  tell,  mother.  How  should  I  know?  And 
what  is  that  to  thee?" 

"It  is  something  to  thy  mother,  John;  and  something 
to  thyself,  I  trow;  and  nothing  worse  could  befall  thee." 

I  waited  for  her  to  speak  again,  because  she  had  spoken 
so  sadly  that  it  took  my  breath  away. 

"  John  Ridd,  if  thou  hast  any  value  for  thy  body  or  thy 
soul,  thy  mother  or  thy  father's  name,  have  naught  to  do 
with  any  Doone." 

She  gazed  at  me  in  earnest  so,  and  raised  her  voice  in 
saying  it,  until  the  whole  valley,  curving  like  a  great  bell, 
echoed  "  Doone,"  that  it  seemed  to  me  my  heart  was  gone, 
for  every  one  and  every  thing.  If  it  were  God's  will  for 
me  to  have  no  more  of  Lorna,  let  a  sign  come  out  of  the 
rocks,  and  I  would  try  to  believe  it.  But  no  sign  came; 
and  I  turned  on  the  woman,  and  longed  that  she  had  been 
a  man. 

"  You  poor  thing,  with  bones  and  blades,  pails  of  water, 
and  door-keys  what  know  you  about  the  destiny  of  a 
maiden  such  as  Lorna?  Chilblain  you  may  treat,  and 
bone-shave,  ringworm,  and  the  scaldings;  even  scabb}' 
sheep  may  limp  the  better  for  your  strikings.  John  the 
Baptist  and  his  cousins,  with  the  wool  and  hyssop,  are  for 
mares,  and  killing  dogs,  and  fowls  that  have  the  jaundice. 
Look  at  me  now.  Mother  Melldrum;  am  I  like  a  fool?" 

"  That  thou  art,  my  son.  Alas  that  it  were  any  other! 
Now  behold  the  end  of  that;  John  Ridd,  mark  the  end  of 
it.^' 

She  pointed  to  the  casljie-rock,  where  upon  a  narrow 
shelf,  betwixt  us  and  the  coming  stars,  a  bitter  fight  was 
raging.  A  fine  fat  sheep,  with  an  honest  face,  had  climbed 
up  very  carefully  to  browse  on  a  bit  of  juicy  grass,  now  the 
dew  of  the  land  was  upon  it.  To  him,  from  an  upper  crag, 
a  lean,  black  goat  came  hurrying,  with  leaps,  and  skirmish 
of  the  horns,  and  an  angry  noise  in  his  nostrils.  The  goat 
had  grazed  the  place  before  to  the  utmost  of  his  liking, 
cropping  in  and  out  with  jerks,  as  their  manner  is  of  feed- 


142  LORKA  DOONE. 

ing.  Nevertheless  he  fell  on  the  sheep  with  fury  and  great 
malice. 

The  simple  wether  was  much  inclined  to  retire  from  the 
contest,  but  looked  around  in  vain  for  any  way  to  peace 
and  comfort.  His  enemy  stood  between  him  and  the  last 
leap  he  had  taken;  there  was  nothing  left  him  but  to  fight, 
or  to  be  hurled  into  the  sea,  five  hundred  feet  below. 

"Lie  down,  lie  down!"  I  shouted  to  him,  as  if  he  were 
a  dog;  for  I  had  seen  a  battle  like  this  before,  and  knew 
that  the  sheep  had  no  chance  of  life,  except  from  his  greater 
weight,  and  the  difficulty  of  moving  him. 

**  Lie  down,  lie  down,  John  Kidd!'^  cried  Mother  Mell- 
drum,  mocking  me,  but  without  a  sign  of  smiling. 

The  poor  sheep  turned,  upon  my  voice,  and  loolced  at  me 
so  piteously  that  I  could  look  no  longer,  but  ran  with 
all  my  speed  to  try  and  save  him  from  the  combat.  He 
saw  that  I  could  not  be  in  time,  for  the  goat  was  bucking 
to  leap  at  him,  and  so  the  good  wether  stooped  his  fore- 
head, with  the  harmless  horns  curling  aside  of  it;  and  the 
goat  flung  his  heels  up,  and  rushed  at  him,  with  quick, 
sharp  jumps  and  tricks  of  movement,  and  the  points  of 
his  long  horns  always  foremost,  and  his  little  scut  cocked 
like  a  gun-hammer. 

As  I  ran  up  the  steep  of  the  rock  I  could  not  see  what 
they  were  doing,  but  the  sheep  must  have  fought  very 
bravely  at  last,  and  yielded  his  ground  quite  slowly,  and  I 
hoped  almost  to  save  him.  But  just  as  my  head  topped 
the  platform  of  rock,  I  saw  him  flung  from  it  backward 
with  a  sad  low  moan  and  a  gurgle.  His  body  made  quite 
a  short  noise  in  the  air,  like  a  bucket  thrown  down  a  well- 
shaft,  and  I  could  not  tell  when  it  struck  the  water,  except 
by  the  echo  among  the  rocks.  So  wroth  was  I  with  the 
goat  at  the  moment  (being  somewhat  scant  of  breath,  and 
unable  to  consider),  that  I  caught  him  by  the  right  hind- 
leg,  before  he  could  turn  from  his  victory,  and  hurled  him 
after  the  sheep,  to  learn  how  he  liked  his  own  compulsion. 


ANOTHER  DANGBHO  US  INTER  VIEW.  143 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

ANOTHER   DANGEROUS   INTERVIEW. 

Although  I  left  the  Denes  at  once,  having  little  heart 
for  further  questions  of  the  wise  woman,  and  being  afraid 
to  visit  her  house  under  the  *' Devil's  cheese-ring"  (to 
which  she  kindly  invited  me),  and  although  I  ran  most 
part  of  the  way,  it  was  very  late  for  farm-house  time  upon 
a  Sunday  evening,  before  1  was  back  at  Plover's  Barrows. 
My  mother  had  great  desire  to  know  all  about  the  matter; 
but  I  could  not  reconcile  it  with  my  respect  so  to  frighten 
her.  Therefore  I  tried  to  sleep  it  off,  keeping  my  own 
counsel;  and  when  that  proved  of  no  avail,  I  strove  to  work 
it  away,  if  might  be,  by  heavy  outdoor  labor,  and  weari- 
ness, and  good  feeding.  These,  indeed,  had  some  effect, 
and  helped  to  pass  a  week  or  two,  with  more  pain  of  hand 
than  heart  to  me. 

But  when  the  weather  changed  in  earnest,  and  the  frost 
was  gone,  and  the  south-west  wind  blew  softly,  and  the 
lambs  were  at  play  with  the  daisies,  it  was  more  than  I 
could  do  to  keep  from  thought  of  Lorna.  For  now  the 
fields  were  spread  with  growth,  and  the  waters  clad  with 
sunshine,  and  light  and  shadow,  step  by  step,  wandered 
over  the  furzy  cleves.  All  the  sides  of  the  hilly  wood  were 
gathered  in  and  out  with  green,  silver-gray,  or  russet  points, 
according  to  the  several  manner  of  tlie  trees  beginning. 
And  if  one  stood  beneath  an  elm,  with  any  heart  to  look 
at  it,  lo!  all  the  ground  was  strewn  with  flakes  (too  small 
to  know  their  meaning),  and  all  the  sprays  above  were 
rasped  and  trembling  with  a  redness.  And  so  I  stopped 
beneath  the  tree,  and  carved  L.  D.  upon  it,  and  wondered 
at  the  buds  of  thought  that  seemed  to  swell  inside  me. 

The  upshot  of  it  all  was  this,  that  as  no  Lorna  came  to 
me,  except  in  dreams  or  fancy,  and  as  my  life  was  not  worth 
living  without  constant  sign  of  her,  forth  I  must  again  to 


144  LORNA  DOONE. 

find  her,  and  say  more  than  a  man  can  tell.  Therefore, 
without  waiting  longer  for  the  moving  of  the  spring, 
dressed  I  was  in  grand  attire  (so  far  as  I  had  gotten  it),  and 
thinking  my  appearance  good,  although  with  doubts  about 
it  (being  forced  to  dress  in  the  hay-taliat),  round  the  cor- 
ner of  the  wood-stack  went  I  very  knowingly — for  Lizzie's 
eyes  were  wondrous  sharp — and  then  I  was  sure  of  meeting 
none  who  would  care  or  dare  to  speak  of  me. 

It  lay  upon  my  conscience  often  that  I  had  not  made 
dear  Annie  secret  to  this  history;  although  in  all  things  1 
could  trust  her,  and  she  loved  me  like  a  lamb.  Many  and 
many  a  time  I  tried,  and  more  than  once  began  the  thing; 
but  there  came  a  dryness  in  my  throat,  and  a  knocking 
under  the  roof  of  my  mouth,  and  a  longing  to  put  it  off 
again,  as  perhaps  might  be  the  wisest.  And  then  I  would 
remember  too  that  I  had  no  right  to  speak  of  Lorna  as  if 
she  were  common  property. 

This  time  I  longed  to  take  my  gun,  and  was  half  re- 
solved to  do  so;  because  it  seemed  so  hard  a  thing  to  be 
shot  at,  and  have  no  chance  of  shooting;  but  when  I  came 
to  remember  the  steepness  and  the  slippery  nature  of  the 
water-slide,  there  seemed  but  little  likelihood  of  keeping 
dry  the  powder.  Therefore  I  was  armed  with  nothing  but 
a  good  stout  holly  staff,  seasoned  well  for  many  a  winter  in 
our  back-kitchen  chimney. 

Although  my  heart  was  leaping  high  with  the  prospect 
of  some  adventure,  and  the  fear  of  meeting  Lorna,  I  could 
not  but  be  gladdened  by  the  softness  of  the  weather,  and 
the  welcome  way  of  everything.  There  was  that  power 
all  round,  that  power  and  that  goodness,  which  make  us 
come,  as  it  were,  outside  our  bodily  selves  to  share  them. 
Over  and  beside  us  breathes  the  joy  bf  hope  and  promise; 
under  foot  are  troubles  past;  in  the  distance  bowering 
newness  tempts  us  ever  forward.  We  quicken  with  largesse 
of  life,  and  spring  with  vivid  mystery. 

And,  in  good  sooth,  I  had  to  spring,  and  no  mystery 
about  it,  ere  ever  I  got  to  the  top  of  the  rift  leading  into 
Doone-glade.  For  the  stream  was  rushing  down  in  strength, 
and  raving  at  every  corner,  a  mort  of  rain  having  fallen 
last  night  and  no  wind  come  to  wipe  it.  However,  I  reached 
the  head  ere  dark  with  more  difficulty  than  danger,  and 
sat  in  a  place  which  comforted  my  back  and  legs  desirably* 


ANOTHER  DANG  ERO  US  INTER  VIEW.  145 

Hereupon  I  grew  so  happy  at  being  on  dry  land  again, 
and  come  to  look  for  Lorna,  with  pretty  trees  around  me, 
that  what  did  I  do  but  fall  asleep  with  the  holly-stick  in 
front  of  me  and  my  best  coat  sunk  in  a  bed  of  moss,  with 
water  and  wood-sorrel.  Mayhap  I  had  not  done  so,  nor 
yet  enjoyed  the  spring  so  much,  if  so  be  I  had  not  taken 
three  parts  of  a  gallon  of  cider  at  home,  at  Plover's  Bar- 
rows, because  of  the  lowness  and  sinking  ever  since  I  met 
Mother  Melldrum. 

There  was  a  little  runnel  going  softly  down  beside  me, 
falling  from  the  upper  rock  by  the  means  of  moss  and 
grass,  as  if  it  feared  to  make  a  noise,  and  had  a  mother 
sleeping.  Now  and  then  it  seemed  to  stoj),  in  fear  of  its 
own  dropping,  and  waiting  for  some  orders;  and  the  blades 
of  grass  that  straightened  to  it  turned  their  points  a  little 
way,  and  offered  their  allegiance  to  wind  instead  of  water. 
Yet  before  their  carkled  edges  bent  more  than  a  driven 
saw,  down  the  water  came  again  with  heavy  drops  and 
pats  of  running,  and  bright  anger  at  neglect. 

This  was  very  pleasant  to  me,  now  and  then,  to  gaze  at, 
blinking  as  the  water  blinked,  and  falling  back  to  sleep 
again.  Suddenly  my  sleep  was  broken  by  a  shade  cast 
over  me;  between  me  and  the  low  sunlight  Lorna  Doone 
was  standing. 

"Master  Ridd,  are  you  mad?*'  she  said,  and  took  my 
hand  to  move.  me. 

*'Not  mad,  but  half  asleep,"  I  answered,  feigning  not  to 
notice  her,  that  so  she  might  keep  hold  of  me. 

'*  Come  away,  come  away,  if  you  care  for  life.  The 
patrol  will  be  here  directly.  Be  quick.  Master  Ridd;  let 
me  hide  thee." 

"I  will  not  stir  a  step,"  said  I,  though  being  in  the 
greatest  fright  that  might  be  well  imagined,  *' unless  you 
call  me  *  John.'  " 

"  Well,  John,  then — Master  John  Ridd,  be  quick,  if  you 
have  any  to  care  for  you." 

"  I  have  many  that  care  for  me,"  I  said,  just  to  let  her 
know;  "and  I  "will  follow  you.  Mistress  Lorna,  albeit 
without  any  hurry,  unless  there  be  peril  to  more  than  me." 

Without  another  word  she  led  me,  though  with  many 
timid  glances  toward  the  upper  valley,  to  and  into  her 
little  bower,  where  the  inlet  through  the  rock  was.     1  am 


146  LORNA  DOONE. 

almost  sure  that  I  spoke  before  (though  I  cannot  now  go 
seek  for  it,  and  my  memory  is  but  a  worn-out  tub)  of  u 
certain  deep  and  perilous  pit,  in  which  I  was  like  to  drown 
myself  through  hurry  and  fright  of  boyhood.  And  even 
then  I  wondered  greatly,  and  was  vexed  with  Lorna  for 
sending  me  in  that  heedless  manner  into  such  an  entrance. 
But  now  it  was  clear  that  she  had  been  right,  and  the  fault 
mine  own  entirely;  for  the  entrance  to  the  pit  was  only  to 
be  found  by  seeking  it.  Inside  the  niche  of  native  stone, 
the  plainest  thing  of  all  to  see,  at  any  rate  by  daylight,  was 
the  stair-way  hewn  from  rock,  and  leading  up  the  mount- 
ain, by  means  of  which  I  had  escaped,  as  before  related. 
To  the  right  side  of  this  was  the  mouth  of  the  pit,  still 
looking  very  formidable,  though  Lorna  laughed  at  my  fear 
of  it,  for  she  drew  her  water  thence.  But  on  the  left  was 
a  Jiarrow  crevice,  very  difficult  to  espy,  and  having  a  sweep 
of  gray  ivy  laid,  like  a  slouching  beaver,  over  it.  A  man 
here  coming  from  the  brightness  of  the  outer  air,  with  eyes 
dazed  by  the  twilight,  would  never  think  of  seeing  this 
and  following  it  to  its  meaning. 

Lorna  raised  the  screen  for  me,  but  I  had  much  ado  to 
pass,  on  account  of  bulk  and  stature.  Instead  of  being 
proud  of  my  size  (as  it  seemed  to  me  she  ought  to  be), 
Lorna  laughed  so  quietly  that  I  was  ready  to  knock  my 
head  or  elbows  against  anything,  and  say  no  more  about  it. 
However,  I  got  through  at  last  without  a  word  of  compli- 
ment, and  broke  into  the  pleasant  room,  the  lone  retreat 
of  Lorna. 

The  chamber  was  of  unhewn  rock,  round,  as  near  as 
might  be,  eighteen  or  twenty  feet  across,  and  gay  with  rich 
variety  of  fern  and  moss  and  lichen.  The  fern  was  in  its 
winter  still,  or  coiling  for  the  spring-tide;  but  moss  was  in 
abundant  life,  some  feathering,  and  some  gobleted,  and 
some  with  fringe  of  red  to  it.  Overhead  there  was  no  ceil- 
ing but  the  sky  itself,  flaked  with  little  clouds  of  April 
whitely  wandering  over  it.  The  floor  was  made  of  soft, 
low  grass,  mixed  with  moss  and  primroses;  and  in  a  niche 
of  shelter  moved  the  delicate  wood-sorrel.  Here  and  there, 
around  the  sides,  were  *^  chairs  of  living  stone,"  as  some 
Latin  writer  says,  whose  name  has  quite  escaped  me;  and 
in  the  midst  of  a  tiny  spring  arose,  with  crystal  beads  in  it, 
and  a  soft  voice  as  of  a  laughing  dream,  and  dimples  like  a 


ANChTHER  DANOERO  US  INTER  VIEW.  147 

Bleeping  babe.  Then,  after  going  round  a  little,  with  sur- 
prise of  daylight,  the  water  overwelled  the  edge,  and  softly 
went  through  lines  of  light  to  shadows  of  untold  bourne. 

While  I  was  gazing  at  all  these  things  with  wonder  and 
some  sadness,  Lorna  turned  upon  me  lightly  (as  her 
manner  was)  and  said: 

**  Where  are  the  new-laid  eggs.  Master  Kidd?  Or  hath 
blue  hen  ceased  laying?" 

I  did  not  altogether  like  the  way  in  which  she  said  it, 
with  a  sort  of  dialect,  as  if  my  speech  could  be  laughed  at. 

"  Here  be  some,"  I  answered,  speaking  as  if  in  spite  of 
her.  **  I  would  have  brought  thee  twice  as  many,  but 
that  I  feared  to  crush  them  in  the  narrow  ways.  Mistress 
Lorna." 

And  so  I  laid  her  out  two  dozen  upon  the  moss  of  the 
rock  ledge,  unwinding  the  whisp  of  hay  from  each  as  it 
came  safe  out  of  my  pocket.  Lorna  looked  with  growing 
wonder,  as  I  added  one  to  one;  and  when  I  had  placed 
them  side  by  side,  and  bidden  her  now  to  tell  them,  to  my 
amazement  what  did  she  do  but  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears! 

"What  have  I  done?"  1  asked,  with  shame,  scarce 
daring  even  to  look  at  her,  because  her  grief  was  not  like 
Annie's — a  thing  that  could  be  coaxed  away,  and  left  a  joy 
in  going — "oh,  what  have  J  done  to  vex  you  so?" 

*'It  is  nothing  done  by  you.  Master  Ridd,"  she  an- 
swered, very  proudly,  as  if  naught  I  did  could  matter;  *'it 
is  only  something  that  comes  upon  me  with  the  scent  of 
the  pure  true  clover-hay.  Moreover,  you  have  been  too 
kind,  and  I  am  not  used  to  kindness." 

Some  sort  of  awkwardness  was  on  me,  at  her  words  and 
weeping,  as  if  I  would  like  to  say  something,  but  feared 
to  make  things  worse,  perhaps,  than  they  were  already. 
Therefore  I  abstained  from  speech,  as  I  would  in  my  own 
pain.  And  as  it  happened,  this  was  the  way  to  make  her 
tell  me  more  about  it.  Not  that  I  was  curious,  beyond 
what  pity  urged  me  and  the  strange  aifairs  around  her; 
and  now  I  gazed  upon  the  floor,  lest  I  should  seem  to 
watch  her;  but  none  the  less  for  that  I  knew  all  that  she 
was  doing. 

Lorna  went  a  little  way,  as  if  she  would  not  think  of  me, 
nor  care  for  one  so  careless;  and  all  my  heart  gave  a 
sudden  jump,  to  go  like  a  mad  thiJi§  after  her;  until  she 


148  LORNA  BOONE. 

turned  of  her  own  accord,  and  with  a  little  sigh  came  back 
to  me.  Her  eyes  were  soft  with  trouble^s  shadow,  and  the 
proud  lift  of  her  neck  was  gone,  and  beauty^s  vanity  borne 
down  by  woman's  want  of  sustenance. 

**  Master  Ridd,"  she  said,  in  the  softest  voice  that  ever 
flowed  between  two  lips,  *^  have  I  done  aught  to  offend 
you?'' 

Hereupon  it  went  hard  with  me,  not  to  catch  her  up 
and  kiss  her,  in  the  manner  in  which  she  was  looking; 
only  it  smote  me  suddenly  that  this  would  be  a  low  ad- 
vantage of  her  trust  and  helplessness.  She  seemed  to 
know  what  I  would  be  at,  and  to  doubt  very  greatly  about 
it,  whether  as  a  child  of  old  she  might  permit  the  usage. 
All  sorts  of  things  went  through  my  head,  as  I  made  my- 
self look  away  from  her,  for  fear  of  being  tempted  beyond 
what  I  could  bear.  And  the  upshot  of  it  was  that  I  said, 
within  my  heart  and  through  it,  "John  Ridd,  be  on  thy 
veiy  best  manners  with  this  lonely  maiden." 

Lorna  liked  me  all  the  better  for  my  good  forbearance, 
because  she  did  not  love  me  yet,  and  had  not  thought 
about  it;  at  least  so  far  as  I  knew.  And  though  her  eyes 
were  so  beauteous,  so  very  soft  and  kindly,  there  was  (to 
my  apprehension)  some  great  power  in  them,  as  if  she 
would  not  have  a  thing,  unless  her  Judgment  leaped  A'ith  it. 

But  now  her  judgment  leaped  with  me,  because  I  had 
behaved  so  well;  and  being  of  quick,  urgent  nature — such 
as  I  delight  in,  for  the  change  from  mine  own  slowness — 
she,  without  any  let  or  hinderance,  sitting  over  against 
me,  now  raising  and  now  dropping  fringe  over  those  sweet 
eyes  that  were  the  road-lights  of  her  tongue,  Lorna  told 
me  all  about  every  thing  I  wished  to  know,  every  little 
thing  she  knew,  except,  indeed,  that  point  of  points,  how 
Master  Ridd  stood  with  her. 

Although  it  wearied  me  no  whit,  it  might  be  wearisome 
for  folk  who  cannot  look  at  Lorna,  to  hear  the  story  all  in 
speech,  exactly  as  she  told  it;  therefore  let  me  put  it 
shortly,  to  the  best  of  my  remembrance. 

Nay,  pardon  me,  whosoever  thou  art,  for  seeming  fickle 
and  rude  to  thee;  I  have  tried  to  do  as  first  proposed,  to 
tell  the  tale  in  my  own  words,  as  of  another's  fortune. 
But,  lo!  I  was  beset  at  once  with  many  heavy  obstacles, 
which  grew  as  I  went  onward,  until  I  knew  not  where  1 


ANOTHER  DANGEROUS  INTERVIEW.  149 

was,  and  mingled  past  and  present.  And  two  of  these  dif- 
ficulties only  were  enough  to  stop  me — the  one  that  I  must 
coldly  speak  without  the  force  of  pity,  the  other  that  I,  off 
and  on,  confused  myself  with  Lorna,  as  might  be  well 
expected. 

Therefore  let  her  tell  the  story  with  her  own  sweet  voice 
and  manner;  and  if  ve  find  it  wearisome,  seek  in  your- 
selves the  weariness. 


idO  LORNA  BOONS. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

LORNA    BEGINS   HER  STORY. 

^'  I  CAN  not  go  through  all  my  thoughts  so  as  to  make 
them  clear  to  you,  nor  have  I  ever  dwelt  on  things  to  shape 
a  story  of  them.  I  know  not  where  the  beginning  was, 
nor  where  the  middle  ought  to  be,  nor  even  how  at  the 
present  time  I  feel  or  think,  or  ought  to  think.  I  look  for 
help  to  those  around  me,  who  should  tell  me  right  and 
wrong  (being  older  and  much  wiser),  I  meet  sometimes 
with  laughter,  and  at  other  times  with  anger. 

**  There  are  but  two  in  the  world  whoever  listen  and  try 
to  help  me;  one  of  them  is  my  grandfather,  and  the  other  is 
a  man  of  wisdom,  whom  we  call  Counselor.  My  grandfather. 
Sir  Ensor  Doone,  is  very  old  and  harsh  of  manner  (except, 
indeed,  to  me);  he  seems  to  know  what  is  right  and  wrong, 
but  not  to  want  to  think  of  it.  The  Counselor,  on  the 
other  hand,  though  full  of  life  and  subtleties,  treats  my 
questions  as  of  play,  and  not  gravely  worth  his  while  to  an- 
swer, unless  he  can  make  wit  of  them. 

And  among  the  women  there  are  none  with  whom  I  can 
hold  converse,  since  my  Aunt  Sabina  died,  who  took  such 
pains  so  teach  me.  She  was  a  lady  of  high  repute,  and 
lofty  ways  and  learning,  but  grieved  and  harassed  more 
and  more  by  the  coarseness,  and  the  violence,  and  the 
ignorance,  around  her.  In  vain  she  strove,  from  year  to 
year,  to  make  the  young  men  hearken,  to  teach  them 
what  became  their  birth,  and  give  them  sense  of  honor.  It 
was  her  favorite  word,  poor  thing!  and  they  called  her  ^  Old 
Aunt  Honor.'  Very  often  she  used  to  say  that  I  w^as  her 
only  comfort,  and  I  am  sure  she  was  my  only  one;  and 
when  she  died  it  was  more  to  me  than  if  I  had  lost  a 
mother. 

"  For  I  have  no  remembrance  now  of  father  or  of  mother, 
although  they  say  that  my  father  was  the  eldest  son  of  Sir 


LORN  A  BEGINS  HER  STORY.  151 

Elisor  Doone,  and  the  bravest  and  the  best  of  them.  And 
BO  they  call  me  heiress  to  this  little  realm  of  violence;  and 
in  sorry  sport,  sometimes,  I  am  their  princess  or  their 
queen. 

**  Many  people  living  here,  as  I  am  forced  to  do,  would 
perhaps  be  very  happy,  and  perhaps  I  ought  to  be  so.  We 
nave  a  beauteous  valley,  sheltered  from  the  cold  of  winter 
and  power  of  the  summer  sun,  untroubled  also  by  the 
storms  and  mists  that  veil  the  mountains;  although  I  must 
acknowledge  that  it  is  apt  to  rain  too  often.  The  grass, 
moreover,  is  so  fresh,  and  the  brook  so  bright  and  lively, 
and  flowers  of  so  many  hues  come  after  one  another,  that 
no  one  need  be  dull,  if  only  left  alone  with  them. 

''And  so  in  the  early  day,  perhaps,  when  morning 
breathes  around  me,  and  the  sun  is  going  upward,  and 
light  is  playing  everywhere,  I  am  not  so  far  beside  them  all 
as  to  live  in  shadow.  But  when  the  evening  gathers  down, 
and  the  sky  is  spread  with  sadness,  and  the  day  has  spent 
itself,  then  a  cloud  of  lonely  trouble  falls,  like  night,  upon 
me.  I  cannot  see  the  things  I  ouest  for  a  world  beyond  me; 
I  cannot  join  the  peace  and  quiet  of  the  depth  above  me; 
neither  have  I  any  pleasure  in  the  brightness  of  the  stars. 

"  What  I  want  to  know  is  something  none  of  them  can 
tell  me — what  am  I,  and  why  set  here,  and  when  shall  I 
be  with  them?  I  see  that  you  are  surprised  a  little  at  this 
my  curiosity.  Perhaps  such  questions  never  spring  in  any 
wholesome  spirit.  But  they  are  in  the  depths  of  mine, 
and  I  cannot  be  quit  of  them. 

''Meantime  all  around  is  violence  and  robbery,  coarse 
delight  and  savage  pain,  reckless  joke  and  hopeless  death. 
Is  it  any  wonder  that  I  cannot  sink  with  these,  that  I  can 
not  so  forget  my  soul  as  to  live  the  life  of  brutes,  and  die 
the  death  more  horrible  because  it  dreams  of  waking? 
There  is  none  to  lead  me  forward,  there  is  none  to  teach 
me  right;  young  as  I  am,  I  live  beneath  a  curse  that  lasts 
forever." 

Here  Lorna  broke  down  for  a  while,  and  cried  so  very 
piteously,  that  doubting  of  my  knowledge,  and  of  any 
power  to  comfort,  I  did  my  best  to  hold  my  peace, 
and  tried  to  look  very  cheerful.  Then  thinking  that 
might  be  bad  manners,  I  went  to  wipe  her  eyes  for  her. 

"  Master  Ridd,"  she  began  again,  "I  am  both  ashamed 


152  LOBNA  BOONE. 

and  vexed  at  my  own  childish  folly.  But  you,  who  have  a 
mother,  who  thinks  (you  say)  so  much  of  you,  and  sisters, 
and  a  quiet  home,  you  cannot  tell  (it  is  not  likely)  what  a 
lonely  nature  is.  How  it  leaps  in  mirth  sometimes,  with 
only  heaven  touching  it;  and  how  it  falls  away  desponding, 
when  the  dreary  weight  creeps  on. 

"It  does  not  happen  many  times  that  I  give  way  like 
this;  more  shame  now  to  do  so,  when  I  ought  to  entertain 
you.  Sometimes  I  am  so  full  of  anger  that  I  dare  not 
trust  to  speech,  at  things  they  cannot  hide  from  me;  and 
perhaps  you  would  be  much  surprised  that  reckless  men 
would  care  so  much  to  elude  a  young  girl's  knowledge. 
They  used  to  boast  to  Aunt  Sabina  of  pillage  and  of 
cruelty,  on  purpose  to  enrage  her,  but  they  never  boast  to 
me.  It  even  makes  me  smile  sometimes  to  see  how 
awkwardly  they  come  and  offer  for  temptation  to  me  shining 
packets,  half  concealed,  of  ornaments  and  finery,  of  rings, 
or  chains,  or  jewels,  lately  belonging  to  other  people. 

"  But  when  I  try  to  search  the  past,  to  get  a  sense  of  what 
befell  me  ere  my  own  perception  formed;  to  feel  back  for 
the  lines  of  childhood,  as  a  trace  of  gossamer,  then  I  only 
know  that  naught  lives  longer  than  God  wills  it.  So  may 
after-sin  go  by,  for  we  are  children  always,  as  the  Counselor 
has  told  me:  so  may  we,  beyond  the  clouds,  seek  this 
infancy  of  life,  and  never  find  its  memory. 

**  But  I  am  talking  now  of  things  which  never  come 
across  me  when  any  work  is  toward.  It  might  have  been  a 
^ood  thing  for  me  to  have  had  a  father  to  beat  these  rov- 
ings  out  of  me,  or  a  mother  to  make  a  home,  and  teach 
me  how  to  manage  it.  For,  being  left  with  none — I  think; 
and  nothing  ever  comes  of  it.  Nothing,  I  mean,  which  I 
can  grasp  and  have  with  any  surety;  nothing  but  faint 
images,  and  wonderment  and  wandering.  But  often,  when 
I  am  neither  searching  back  into  remembrance,  nor  asking 
of  my  parents,  but  occupied  by  trifles,  something  like  a 
sign,  or  message,  or  a  token  of  some  meaning,  seems  to 
glance  upon  me.  Whether  from  the  rustling  wind,  or 
sound  of  distant  music,  or  the  singing  of  a  bird,  like  the 
sun  on  snow,  it  strikes  me  with  a  pain  of  pleasure. 

*'And  often  when  I  wake  at  night,  and  listen  to  the 
silence,  or  wander  far  from  people  in  the  grayness  of  the 
evening,  or  stand  and  look  at  quiet  water  having  shadows 


LORN  A  BFQTNS  HER  STORY.  153 

over  it,  some  vague  image  seems  to  hover  on  the  skirt  of 
vision,  ever  changing  place  and  outline,  ever  flitting  as  I 
follow.  This  so  moves  and  hurries  me,  in  the  eagerness 
and  longing,  that  straightway  all  my  chance  is  lost;  and 
memory  scared  like  a  wild  bird  flies.  Or  am  I  as  a  child, 
perhaps,  chasing  a  flown  cageli ng,  who  among  the  branches 
free  plays  and  peeps  at  the  offered  cage  (as  a  home  not  to 
be  urged  on  him),  and  means  to  take  his  time  of  coming,  if 
he  comes  at  all? 

"  Often,  too,  I  wonder  at  the  odds  of  fortune,  which 
made  me  (helpless  as  I  am,  and  fond  of  peace  and  reading) 
the  heiress  of  this  mad  domain,  the  sanctuary  of  unholi- 
ness.  It  is  not  likely  that  I  shall  have  much  power  of 
authority;  and  yet  the  Counselor  creeps  up  to  be  my  Lord 
of  the  Treasury;  and  his  son  aspires  to  my  hand,  as  of  a 
royal  alliance.  Well,  *  honor  among  thieves,'  they  say; 
and  mine  is  the  first  honor:  although  among  decent  folk, 
perhaps,  honesty  is  better. 

"  We  should  not  be  so  quiet  here,  and  safe  from  inter- 
ruption, but  that  I  have  begged  one  privilege  rather  than 
commanded  it.  This  was  that  the  lower  end,  just  this  nar- 
rowing of  the  valley,  where  it  is  most  hard  to  come  at, 
might  be  looked  upon  as  mine,  except  for  purposes  of 
guard.  Therefore  none  beside  the  sentries  ever  trespass  on 
me  here,  unless  it  be  my  grandfather,  or  the  Counselor,  or 
Carver. 

"  By  your  face,  Master  Ridd,  I  see  that  you  have  heard 
of  Carver  Doone.  For  strength,  and  courage,  and  resource, 
he  bears  the  first  repute  among  us,  as  might  well  be  ex- 
pected from  the  son  of  the  Counselor.  But  he  differs  from 
his  father,  in  being  very  hot  and  savage,  and  quite  free 
from  argument.  The  Counselor,  who  is  my  uncle,  gives 
his  son  the  best  advice;  commending  all  the  virtues,  with 
eloquence  and  wisdom;  yet  himself  abstaining  from  them 
accurately  and  impartially. 

**  You  must  be  tired  of  this  story,  and  the  time  I  take  to 
think,  and  the  weakness  of  my  telling;  but  my  life  from 
day  to  day  shows  so  little  variance.  Among  the  riders  there 
is  none  whose  safe  return  I  watch  for — I  mean  none  more 
than  other — and  indeed  there  seems  no  risk,  all  are  now  so 
feared  of  us.  Neither  of  the  old  men  is  there  whom  I  can 
revere  or  love  (except  alone  my  grandfather,  whom  I  love 


154  LORNA  BOONE, 

with  trembling);  neither  of  the  women  any  whom  I  like  to 
deal  with,  unless  it  be  a  little  maiden  whom  I  saved  from 
starving. 

"  A  little  Cornish  girl  she  is,  and  shaped  in  Western 
manner,  not  so  very  much  less  in  width  than  if  you  take 
her  lengthwise.  Her  father  seems  to  have  been  a  miner,  a 
Cornishman  (as  she  declares)  of  more  than  average  excel- 
lence, ami  better  than  any  two  men  to  be  found  in  Devon- 
shire, or  any  four  in  Somerset.  Veiy  few  things  can  have 
been  beyond  his  power  of  performance,  and  yet  he  left  his 
daughter  to  starve  upon  a  peat-rick.  She  does  not  know 
how  this  was  done,  and  looks  upon  it  as  a  mystery,  the 
meaning  of  which  will  some  day  be  clear,  and  redound  to 
her  father's  honor.  His  name  was  Simon  Carfax,  and 
he  came  as  the  captain  of  a  gang  from  one  of  the  Cornish 
stanneries.  Gwenny  Carfax,  my  young  maid,  well  remem- 
bers how  her  father  was  brought  up  from  Cornwall.  Her 
mother  had  been  buried  just  a  week  or  so  before,  and  he 
was  sad  about  it,  and  had  been  off  his  work,  and  was  ready 
for  another  job.  Then  people  came  to  him  by  night,  and 
said  that  he  must  want  a  change,  and  every  body  lost  their 
wives,  and  work  was  the  way  to  mend  it.  So  what  with 
grief,  and  overthought,  and  the  inside  of  a  square  bottle, 
Gwenny  says  they  brought  him  off  to  become  a  mighty 
captain,  and  choose  the  country  round.  The  last  she  saw 
of  him  was  this,  that  he  went  down  a  ladder  somewhere  on 
the  wilds  of  Exmoor,  leaving  her  with  bread-and-cheese, 
and  his  traveling-hat  to  see  to.  And  from  that  day  to  this 
he  never  came  above  the  ground  again,  so  far  as  we  can 
hear  of. 

'*  But  Gwenny,  holding  to  his  hat,  and  having  eaten  the 
bread-and-cheose  (when  he  came  no  more  to  help  her), 
dwelt  three  days  near  the  mouth  of  the  hole;  and  then  it 
was  closed  over,  the  while  that  she  was  sleeping.  With 
weakness  and  with  want  of  food  she  lost  herself  distress- 
fully, and  went  away  for  miles  or  more,  and  lay  upon  a 
peat-rick,  to  die  before  the  ravens. 

"  That  very  day  I  chanced  to  return  from  Aunt  Sabina's 
dying-place;  for  she  would  not  die  in  Glen  Doone,  she 
said,  lest  the  angels  feared  to  come  for  her;  and  so  she 
was  taken  to  a  cottage  in  a  lonely  valley.  I  was  allowed  to 
visit  her,  for  even  we  durst  not  refuse  the  wishes  of  the 


LORN  A  BEGINS  BER  STORY.  166 

dying;  and  if  a  priest  had  been  desired,  we  should  have 
made  bold  with  him.  Returning  very  sorrowful,  and 
caring  now  for  nothing,  I  found  this  little  stray  thing 
lying,  with  her  arms  upon  her,  and  not  a  sign  of  life, 
except  the  way  that  she  was  biting.  Black  root-stuif  was 
in  her  mouth,  and  a  piece  of  dirty  sheep's  wool,  and  at  her 
feet  an  old  egg-shell  of  some  bird  of  the  moor-land. 

*'  I  tried  to  raise  her,  but  she  was  too  square  and  heavy 
for  me;  and  so  I  put  food  in  her  mouth,  and  left  her  to 
do  right  with  it.  And  this  she  did  in  a  little  time;  for  the 
victuals  were  very  choice  and  rare,  being  what  I  had  taken 
over  to  tempt  poor  Aunt  Sabina.  Gwenny  ate  them  with- 
out delay,  and  then  was  ready  to  eat  the  basket  and  the 
ware  that  had  contained  them. 

**  Gwenny  took  me  for  an  angel — though  I  am  little  like 
one,  as  you  see,  Master  Ridd — and  she  followed  me,  expect- 
ing that  I  would  open  wings  and  fly  when  we  came  to  any 
difficulty.  I  brought  her  home  with  me,  so  far  as  this  can 
be  a  home;  and  she  made  herself  my  sole  attendant,  with- 
out so  much  as  asking  me.  She  has  beaten  two  or  three 
other  girls,  who  used  to  wait  upon  me,  until  they  are 
afraid  to  come  near  the  house  of  my  grandfather.  She  seems 
to  have  no  kind  of  fear  even  of  our  roughest  men;  and  yet 
she  looks  with  reverence  and  awe  upon  the  Counselor.  As 
for  the  wickedness,  and  theft,  and  revelry  around  her, 
she  says  it  is  no  concern  of  hers,  and  they  know  their  own 
business  best.  By  this  way  of  regarding  men  she  has  won 
upon  our  riders,  so  that  she  is  almost  free  from  all  control 
of  place  and  season,  and  is  allowed  to  pass  where  none 
even  of  the  youths  may  go.  Being  so  wide,  and  short, 
and  flat,  she  has  none  to  pay  her  compliments;  and,  were 
there  any,  she  would  scorn  them,  as  not  being  Cornish- 
men.  Sometimes  she  wanders  far,  by  moonlight,  on  the 
moors  and  up  the  rivers,  to  give  her  father  (as  she  says) 
another  chance  of  finding  her;  and  she  comes  back  not  a 
whit  defeated,  or  discouraged,  or  depressed,  but  confident 
that  he  is  only  waiting  for  the  proper  time. 

"  Herein  she  sets  me  good  example  of  a  patience  and 
contentment  hard  for  me  to  imitate.  Oftentimes  I  am 
so  vexed  by  things  I  cannot  meddle  with,  yet  cannot  be 
kept  from  me,  that  I  am  at  the  point  of  flying  from  this 
dreadful  valley,  and  risking  all  that  can  betide  me  in  th© 


166  LOIINA  DOONE. 

unknown  outer  world.  If  it  were  not  for  my  grandfather, 
I  would  have  done  so  long  ago;  but  I  cannot  bear  that  he 
should  die  with  no  gentle  hand  to  comfort  him;  and  I  fear 
to  think  of  the  conflict  that  must  ensue  for  the  govern- 
ment, if  there  be  a  disputed  succession. 

"  Ah  me!  We  are  to  be  pitied  greatly  rather  then  con- 
demned, by  people  whose  things  we  have  taken  from  them; 
for  I  have  read,  and  seem  almost  to  understand  about  it. 
that  there  are  places  on  the  earth  where  gentle  peace,  and 
love  of  home,  and  knowledge  of  one's  neighbors  prevail, 
and  are,  with  reason,  looked  for  as  the  usual  state  of 
things.  There  honest  folk  may  go  to  work  in  the  glory  of 
the  sunrise,  with  hope  of  coming  home  again  quite  safe  in 
the  quiet  evening,  and  finding  all  their  children;  and  even 
in  the  darkness  they  have  no  fear  of  lying  down  and  drop- 
ping off  to  slumber,  and  hearken  to  the  wind  at  night, 
not  as  to  an  enemy  trying  to  find  entrance,  but  a  friend, 
who  comes  to  tell  the  value  of  their  comfort. 

**0f  all  this  golden  ease  I  hear,  but  never  saw  the  like 
of  it;  and,  haply,  I  shall  never  do  so,  being  born  to  turbu- 
lence. Once,  indeed,  I  had  the  offer  of  escape,  and  kins- 
man's aid,  and  high  place  in  the  gay,  bright  world;  and  yet 
I  was  not  tempted  much,  or,  at  least,  dared  not  to  trust  it. 
And  it  ended  very  sadly,  so  dreadfully  that  I  even  shrink 
from  telling  you  about  it;  for  that  one  terror  changed  my 
life  in  a  moment,  at  a  blow,  from  childhood,  and  from 
thoughts  of  play  and  commune  with  the  flowers  and  trees, 
to  a  sense  of  death  and  darkness,  and  a  heavy  weight  of 
earth.  Be  content  now.  Master  Ridd;  ask  me  nothing 
more  about  it,  so  your  sleep  be  sounder." 

But  I,  John  Ridd,  being  young  and  new,  and  very  fond 
of  hearing  things  to  make  my  blood  to  tingle,  had  no 
more  of  manners  than  to  urge  poor  Lorna  onward,  hoping, 
perhaps  in  depth  of  heart,  that  she  might  have  to  hold  by 
me,  when  the  worst  came  to  the  worst  of  it.  Therefore 
she  went  on  again. 


LOBNA  ENDS  HER  STORY.  167 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

LORNA  ENDS  HER  STORY. 

"  It  is  not  a  twelvemonth  yet,  although  it  seems  ten 
years  agone,  since  I  blew  the  downy  globe  to  learn  the 
time  of  day,  or  set  beneath  my  chin  the  veinings  of  the 
varnished  buttercup,  or  fired  the  fox-glove  cannonade,  or 
made  a  captive  of  myself  with  dandelion  fetters;  for  then 
I  had  not  very  much  to  trouble  me  in  earnest,  but  went 
about,  romancing  gravely;  playing  at  bo-peep  with  fear, 
making  for  myself  strong  heroes  of  gray  rock  or  fir-tree, 
adding  to  my  own  importance,  as  the  children  love  to  do. 

''As  yet  I  had  not  truly  learned  the  evil  of  our  living, 
the  scorn  of  law,  the  outrage,  and  the  sorrow  caused  to 
others.  It  even  was  a  point  with  all  to  hide  the  roughness 
from  me,  to  show  me  but  the  gallant  side,  and  keep  in 
shade  the  other.  My  grandfather,  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  had 
given  strictest  order,  as  I  discovered  afterward,  that  in  my 
presence  all  should  be  seemly,  kind,  and  vigilant.  Nor 
was  it  very  difficult  to  keep  most  part  of  the  mischief  from 
me;  for  no  Doone  ever  robs  at  home,  neither  do  they 
quarrel  much,  except  at  times  of  gambling.  And  though 
Sir  Ensor  Doone  is  now  so  old,  and  growing  feeble,  his 
own  way  he  will  have  still,  and  no  one  dare  deny  him. 
Even  our  fiercest  and  most  mighty  swordsmen,  seared 
from  all  sense  of  right  or  wrong,  yet  have  plentiful  sense 
of  fear  when  brought  before  that  white-haired  man.  Not 
that  he  is  rough  with  them,  or  querulous,  or  rebukeful; 
but  that  he  has  a  strange,  soft  smile,  and  a  gaze  they  can 
not  answer,  and  a  knowledge  deeper  far  than  they  have  of 
themselves.  Under  his  protection,  I  am  as  safe  from  all 
those  men  (some  of  whom  are  but  little  akin  to  me)  as  if  I 
slept  beneath  the  roof  of  the  King's  Lord  Justiciary. 

*'  But  now,  at  the  time  I  speak  of,  one  evening  of  last 
summer,  a  horrible   thing  befell,  which  took  all  play  of 


158  LORNA  DOONE. 

childhood  from  me.  The  fifteenth  day  of  last  July  was 
very  hot  and  sultry,  long  after  the  time  of  sundown;  and  I 
was  paying  heed  to  it,  because  of  the  old  saying  that  if  it 
rain  then,  rain  will  fall  on  forty  days  thereafter.  I  had 
been  long  by  the  water-side  at  this  lower  end  of  the  valley, 
plaiting  a  little  crown  of  woodbine,  crocketed  with  sprigs  of 
heath,  to  please  my  grandfather,  who  likes  to  see  me  gay 
at  supper-time.  Being  proud  of  my  tiara,  which  had  cost 
some  trouble,  I  set  it  on  my  head  at  once,  to  save  the 
chance  of  crushing,  and  carrying  my  gray  hat,  ventured  by 
a  path  not  often  trod.  For  I  must  be  home  at  the  supper- 
time,  or  grandfather  would  be  exceeding  wroth;  and  the 
worst  of  his  anger  is  that  he  never  condescends  to  show  it. 

''  Therefore,  instead  of  the  open  mead,  or  the  windings  of 
the  river,  I  made  short  cut  through  the  ash-trees  covert, 
which  lies  in  the  middle  of  our  vale,  with  the  water 
skirting  or  cleaving  it.  You  have  never  been  up  so  far  as 
that — at  least  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge — but  you  see  it 
like  a  long  gray  spot,  from  the  top  of  the  cliffs  above  us. 
Here  I  was  not  likely  to  meet  any  of  our  people,  because 
the  young  ones  are  afraid  of  some  ancient  tale  about  it, 
and  the  old  ones  have  no  love  of  trees  where  gunshots  are 
uncertain. 

''It  was  more  almost  than  dusk,  down  below  the  tree- 
leaves,  and  I  was  eager  to  go  through,  and  be  again  beyond 
it.  For  the  gray  dark  hung  around  me,  scarcely  showing 
shadow;  and  the  little  light  that  glimmered  seemed  to 
come  up  from  the  ground.  For  the  earth  was  strewn  with 
the  winter-spread  and  coil  of  last  year's  foliage,  the  lich- 
ened  claws  of  chalky  twigs,  and  the  numberless  decay 
which  gives  a  light  in  its  decaying.  I,  for  my  part,  has- 
tened shyly,  ready  to  draw  back  and  run  from  hare,  or 
rabbit,  or  small  field-mouse. 

At  a  sudden  turn  of  the  narrow  path,  where  it  stooped 
again  to  the  river,  a  man  leaped  out  from  behind  a  tree, 
and  stopped  me,  and  seized  hold  of  me.  I  tried  to  shriek, 
but  my  voice  was  still;  and  I  could  only  hear  my  heart. 

'  '  Now,  Cousin  Lorna,  my  good  cousin,^  he  said,  with 
ease  and  calmness;  'your  voice  is  very  sweet,  no  doubt, 
from  all  that  I  can  see  of  you.  But  I  pray  you  keep  it  still, 
unless  you  would  give  to  dusty  death  your  very  best  cousin 
and  trusty  guardian,  Alan  Brand ir,  of  Loch  Awe/ 


LORN  A  ENDS  HER  STORY,  159 

'''You  my  guardian!'  I  said,  for  the  idea  was  too  ludi- 
crous; and  ludicrous  things  always  strike  me  first,  through 
some  fault  of  nature. 

"  '  I  have,  in  truth,  that  honor,  madam,'  he  answered, 
with  a  sweeping  how;  *  unless  I  err  in  taking  you  for 
Mistress  Lorna  Doone.' 

*' '  You  have  not  mistaken  me.  My  name  is  Lorna 
Doone.' 

'^  He  looked  at  me  with  gravity,  and  was  inclined  to 
make  some  claim  to  closer  consideration,  upon  the  score  of 
kinship;  but  I  shrunk  back,  and  only  said,  *  Yes,  my  name 
is  Lorna  Doone.' 

"  Then  I  am  your  faithful  guardian,  Alan  Brandir,  of 
Loch  Awe;  called  Lord  Alan  Brandir,  son  of  a  worthy  peer 
of  Scotland.     Now,  will  you  confide  in  me?' 

"  '  I  confide  in  you!'  I  cried,  looking  at  him  with  amaze- 
ment; '  why  you  are  not  older  than  I  am!' 

*^  *  Yes  I  am,  three  years,  at  least.  You,  my  ward,  are 
not  sixteen.  I,  your  worshipful  guardian,  am  almost 
nineteen  years  of  age.' 

**Upon  hearing  this  I  looked  at  him,  for  that  seemed 
then  a  venerable  age;  but  the  more  I  looked  the  more  I 
doubted,  although  he  was  dressed  quite  like  a  man.  He 
led  me  in  a  courtly  manner,  stepping  at  his  tallest  to  an 
open  place  beside  the  water,  where  the  light  came  as  in 
channel,  and  was  made  the  most  of  by  glancing  waves  and 
fair  white  stones. 

'*  'Now  am  I  to  your  liking,  cousin?"  he  asked,  when  I 
liad  gazed  at  him  until  I  was  almost  ashamed,  except  at 
such  a  stripling.  '  Does  my  Cousin  Lorna  judge  kindly  of 
her  guardian,  and  her  nearest  kinsman?  In  a  word,  is  our 
admiration  mutual?' 

*'  Truly,  I  know  not,"  I  said ;  '  but  you  seem  good-natured, 
and  to  have  no  harm  in  you.  Do  they  trust  you  with  a 
sword?' 

*^For  in  my  usage  among  men  of  stature  and  strong 
presence,  this  pretty  youth,  so  tricked  and  slender,  seemed 
nothing  but  a  doll  to  me.  Although  he  scared  me  in  the 
wood,  now  that  I  saw  him  in  good  twilight,  lo!  he  was  but 
little  greater  than  my  little  self;  and  so  tasseled  and  so 
ruffled  with,  a  mint  of  bravery,  and  a  green  coat  barred  with 
red,  and  a  slim  sword  hanging  under  him,  it  was  the  utmost 
I  could  do  to  look  at  him  half -gravely. 


160  LORNA  DOONE. 

'' '  I  fear  that  my  presence  hatli  scarce  enough  of  ferocity 
about  it/'  he  gave  a  jerk  to  his  sword  as  he  spoke,  and 
clanked  it  on  the  brook-stones;  '  yet  do  I  assure  you,  cousin, 
that  I  am  not  without  some  prowess:  and  many  a  master 
of  defense  hath  this  good  sword  of  mine  disarmed.  Now, 
if  the  boldest  and  biggest  robber  in  all  this  charming 
valley  durst  so  much  as  breathe  the  scent  of  that  flower 
coronal,  which  doth  not  adorn  but  is  adorned' — here  he 
talked  some  nonsense — I  would  cleave  him  from  head  to 
foot,  ere  ever  he  could  fly  or  cry.' 

"*Hush!'I  said;  'talk  not  so  loudly,  or  thou  mayest 
have  to  do  both  thyself,  and  do  them  both  in  vain.' 

**For  he  was  quite  forgetting  now,  in  his  bravery  before 
me,  where  he  stood,  and  with  whom  he  spoke,  and  how 
the  summer  lightning  shone  above  the  hills  and  down  the 
hollow.  And  as  I  gazed  on  this  slight  fair  youth,  clearly 
one  of  high  birth  and  breeding  (albeit  overboastful),  a  chill 
of  fear  crept  over  me;  because  he  had  no  strength  or  sub- 
stance, and  would  be  no  more  than  a  pincushion  before  the 
great  swords  of  the  Doones. 

''  'I  pray  you  be  not  vexed  with  me,'  he  answered,  in  a 
softer  voice;  'for  I  have  traveled  far  and  sorely,  for  the 
sake  of  seeing  you.  I  know  right  well  among  whom  I  am, 
and  that  their  hospitality  is  more  of  the  knife  than  the 
salt-stand.  Nevertheless  I  am  safe  enough,  for  my  foot  is 
the  fleetest  in  Scotland,  and  what  are  these  hills  to  me? 
Tush!  I  have  seen  some  border  forays  among  wilder  spirits 
and  craftier  men  than  these  be.  Once  I  mind  some  years 
agone,  when  I  was  quite  a  stripling  lad ' 

a  f  Worshipful  guardian,'  I  said,  'there  is  no  time  now 
for  history.  If  thou  art  in  no  haste,  1  am,  and  cannot 
stay  here  idling.  Only  tell  me  how  I  am  akin  and  under 
wardship  to  thee,  and  what  purpose  brings  thee  here.' 

"  '  In  order,  cousin — all  things  in  order,  even  with  fair 
ladies.  First,  I  am  thy  uncle's  son,  my  father  is  thy 
mother's  brother,  or  at  least  thy  grandmother's — unless  I 
am  deceived  in  that  which  I  have  guessed,  and  no  other 
man.  For  my  father,  being  a  leading  lord  in  the  coun- 
cils of  King  Charles  the  Second,  appointed  me  to  learn  the 
law,  not  for  my  livelihood,  thank  God,  but  because  he  felt 
the  lack  of  it  in  affairs  of  state.  But  first,  your  leave,  young 
Mistress  Lorna;  I  cannot  lay  down  legal  maxims  without 
aid  of  smoke/ 


LORN  A  ENDS  HER  STORY,  161 

"  He  leaned  against  a  willow-tree,  and  drawing  from  a 
gilded  box  a  little  dark  thing  like  a  stick,  placed  it  between 
his  lips,  and  then,  striking  a  flint  on  steel,  made  fire  and 
caught  it  upon  touch-wood.  With  this  he  kindled  the  tip 
of  the  stick,  until  it  glowed  with  a  ring  of  red,  and  then 
he  breathed  forth  curls  of  smoke,  blue  and  smelling  on  the 
air  like  spice.  I  had  never  seen  this  done  before,  though 
acquainted  with  tobacco-pipes;  and  it  made  me  laugh, 
until  I  thought  of  the  peril  that  must  follow  it. 

*' ^  Cousin,  have  no  fear,' he  said;  'this  makes  me  all 
the  safer;  they  will  take  me  for  a  glow-worm,  and  thee  for 
the  flower  it  shines  upon.  But  to  return — of  law  I  learned, 
as  you  may  suppose,  but  little;  although  I  have  capacities. 
But  the  thing  was  far  too  dull  for  me.  All  I  care  for  is 
adventure,  moving  chance  and  hot  encounter;  therefore, 
all  of  law  I  learned  was  how  to  live  without  it.  Neverthe- 
less, for  amusement's  sake,  as  I  must  needs  be  at  my  desk 
an  hour  or  so  in  the  afternoon,  I  took  to  the  sporting 
branch  of  the  law,  the  pitfalls  and  the  ambuscades;  and  of 
all  the  traps  to  be  laid  therein,  pedigrees  are  the  rarest. 
There  is  scarce  a  man  worth  a  cross  of  butter,  but  what 
you  may  find  a  hole  in  his  shield  within  four  generations. 
And  so  I  struck  our  own  escutcheon,  and  it  sounded 
hollow.  There  is  a  point — but  heed  not  that;  enough 
that,  being  curious  now,  I  followed  up  the  quarry,  and  I 
am  come  to  this  at  last — we,  even  we,  the  lords  of  Loch 
Awe,  have  an  outlaw  for  our  cousin,  and  I  would  we  had 
more,  if  they  be  like  you.' 

"  '  Sir,'  I  answered,  being  amused  by  his  manner,  which 
was  new  to  me  (for  the  Doones  are  much  in  earnest), 
*  surely  you  count  it  no  disgrace  to  be  of  kin  to  Sir  Ensor 
Doone,  and  all  his  honest  family!' 

*'  ^  If  it  be  so,  it  is  in  truth  the  very  highest  honor,  and 
would  heal  ten  holes  in  our  escutcheon.  What  noble 
family  but  springs  from  a  captain  among  robbers?  Trade 
alone  can  spoil  our  blood;  robbery  purifies  it.  The  rob- 
bery of  one  age  is  the  chivalry  of  the  next.  We  may  start 
anew,  and  vie  with  even  the  nobility  of  France,  if  we  can 
once  enroll  but  half  the  Doones  upon  our  lineage.' 

"  '  I  like  not  to  hear  you  speak  of  the  Doones  as  if 
they  were  no  more  than  that,'  I  exclaimed,  being  now  un- 
reasonable; '  but  will  you  tell  me,  once  for  all,  sir,  how  you 
ure  my  guardian?' 


162  LORNA  DOONE. 


(( < 


That  I  will  do.  You  are  my  ward  because  you  were 
my  father's  ward,  under  the  Scottish  law;  and  now  my 
father  being  so  deaf,  I  have  succeeded  to  that  right — at 
least  in  my  own  opinion — under  which  claim  I  am  here,  to 
neglect  my  trust  no  longer,  but  to  lead  you  away  from 
scenes  and  deeds  which  (though  of  good  repute  and  comely) 
are  not  the  best  for  young  gentlewomen.  There,  spoke  1 
not  like  a  guardian?    After  that,  can  you  mistrust  me?' 

*' '  But,'  said  I,  *good  Cousin  Alan  (if  I  may  so  call 
you),  it  is  not  meet  for  young  gentlewomen  to  go  away 
with  young  gentlemen,  though  fifty  times  their  guardians. 
But  if  you  will  only  come  with  me,  and  explain  your  tale 
to  my  grandfather,  he  will  listen  to  you  quietly,  and  take 
no  advantage  of  you.' 

"  '  I  thank  you  much,  kind  Mistress  Lorna,  to  lead  the 
goose  into  the  fox's  den!  But,  setting  by  all  thought  of 
danger,  I  have  other  reasons  against  it.  Now,  come  with 
your  faithful  guardian,  child.  I  will  pledge  my  honor 
against  all  harm,  and  to  bear  you  safe  to  London.  By  the 
law  of  the  realm,  I  am  now  entitled  to  the  custody  of  your 
fair  person,  and  of  all  your  chattels.' 

'^ '  But,  sir.  all  that  you  have  learned  of  law  is  how  to 
live  without  it.' 

'*' Fairly  met,  fair  cousin  mine!  Your  wit  will  do  me 
credit,  after  a  little  sharpening.  And  there  is  none  to  do 
that  better  than  your  aunt,  my  mother.  Although  she 
knows  not  of  my  coming,  she  is  longing  to  receive  you. 
Come,  and  in  a  few  months'  time  you  shall  set  the  mode 
at  court,  instead  of  pining  here,  and  weaving  coronals  of 
daisies.' 

*^I  turned  aside,  and  thought  a  little.  Although  he 
seemed  so  light  of  mind,  and  gay  in  dress  and  manner,  I 
could  not  doubt  his  honesty,  and  saw  beneath  his  jaunty 
air  true  mettle  and  ripe  bravery.  Scarce  had  I  thought  of 
his  project  twice,  until  he  spoke  of  my  aunt,  his  mother  ; 
but  then  the  form  of  my  dearest  friend,  my  sweet  Aunt 
Sabina,  seemed  to  come  and  bid  me  listen,  for  this  is  what 
she  prayed  for.  Moreover,  I  felt  (though  not  as  now)  that 
Doone  Glen  was  no  place  for  me  or  any  proud  young 
maiden.  But  while  I  thought,  the  yellow  lightning  spread 
behind  a  bulk  of  clouds  three  times  ere  the  flash  was  done, 
far  oU  and  void  of  thunder;  and  from  the  pile  of  cloud 


LORN  A  ENDS  HER  STORY.  163 

before  it,  cut  as  though  from  black  paper,  and  lit  to  depths 
of  blackness  by  the  blaze  behind  it,  a  form  as  of  an  aged 
man,  sitting  in  a  chair  loose-mantled,  seemed  to  lift  a  hand 
and  warn. 

•*  This  reminded  me  of  my  grandfather,  and  all  the  care 
I  owed  him.  Moreover,  now  the  storm  was  rising,  and  1 1 
began  to  grow  afraid;  for  of  all  things  awful  to  me' 
thunder  is  the  dreadfulest.  It  doth  so  growl,  like  a  lion 
coming,  and  then  so  roll,  and  roar,  and  rumble,  out  of  a 
thickening  darkness,  then  crack  like  the  last  trump  over- 
head, through  cloven  air  and  terror,  that  all  my  heart  lies 
low  and  quivers,  like  a  weed  in  water.  I  listened  now  for 
the  distant  rolling  of  the  great  black  storm,  and  heard  it 
and  was  hurried  by  it.  But  the  youth  before  me  waved 
his  rolled  tobacco  at  it,  and  drawled  in  his  daintiest  tone 
and  manner: 

"  *  The  sky  is  having  a  smoke,  I  see,  and  dropping 
sparks,  and  grumbling.  I  should  have  thought  these  Ex- 
moor  hills  too  small  to  gather  thunder.' 

'' '  I  can  not  go,  I  will  not  go  with  you.  Lord  Alan 
Brandir,'  I  answered,  being  vexed  a  little  by  those  words 
of  his.  *  You  are  not  grave  enough  for  me.  you  are  not 
old  enough  for  me.  My  Aunt  Sabina  would^  not  have 
wished  it;  nor  would  I  leave  my  grandfather,  without  his 
full  permission.  I  thank  you  much  for  coming,  sir;  but 
be  gone  at  once  by  the  way  you  came;  and  pray  how  did 
you  come,  sir?' 

*'  *  Fair  cousin,  you  will  grieve  for  this;  you  will  mourn, 
when  you  cannot  mend  it.  I  would  my  mother  had  been 
here;  soon  would  she  have  persuaded  you.  And  yet,'  he 
added,  with  the  smile  of  his  accustomed  gayety,  'it  would 
have  been  an  unco  thing,  as  we  say  in  Scotland,  for  her 
ladyship  to  have  waited  upon  you,  as  her  graceless  son  has 
done,  and  hopes  to  do  again  ere  long.  Down  the  cliffs 
I  came,  and  up  them  I  must  make  way  back  again.  Now 
adieu,  fair  Cousin  Lorna,  I  see  you  are  in  haste  to-night; 
but  I  am  right  proud  of  my  guardianship.  Give  me  just 
one  flower  for  token ' — here  he  kissed  his  hand  to  me,  and 
I  threw  him  a  truss  of  woodbine — *  adieu,  fair  cousin,  trust 
me  well,  I  will  soon  be  here  again.' 

'* '  That  thou  never  shalt,  sir,'  cried  a  voice  as  loud  as  a 
culverin;  and  Carver  Doone  had  Alan  Brandir  as  a  spider 


164  LORNA  BOONE, 

hath  a  fly.  The  boy  made  a  little  shriek  at  first,  with  the 
sudden  shock  and  the  terror;  then  he  looked,  methought, 
ashamed  of  himself,  and  set  his  face  to  fight  for  it.  Very 
bravely  he  strove  and  struggled  to  free  one  arm  and  to 
grasp  his  sword;  but  as  well  might  an  infant  buried  alive 
attempt  to  lift  his  gravestone.  Carver  Doone,  with  his 
great  arms  wrapped  around  the  slim  gay  body,  smiled  (as 
I  saw  by  the  flash  from  heaven)  at  the  poor  young  face 
turned  up  to  him;  then  (as  a  nurse  bears  off  a  child  who 
is  loath  to  go  to  bed)  he  lifted  the  youth  from  his  feet,  and 
bore  him  away  into  the  darkness. 

*'  1  was  young  then.  I  am  older  now;  older  by  ten 
years,  in  thought,  although  it  is  not  a  twelvemonth  since. 
If  that  black  deed  were  done  again,  I  could  follow,  and 
could  combat  it — could  throw  weak  arms  on  the  murderer, 
and  strive  to  be  murdered  also.  I  am  now  at  home  with 
violence;  and  no  dark  death  surprises  me. 

"But  being  as  I  was  that  night,  the  horror  overcame  me. 
The  crash  of  thunder  overhead,  the  last  despairing  look, 
the  death-piece  framed  with  blaze  of  lightning — my  young 
heart  was  so  affrighted  that  I  could  not  gasp.  My  breath 
went  from  me,  and  I  knew  not  where  I  was,  or  who,  or 
what.  Only  that  I  lay,  and  cowered,  under  great  trees  full 
of  thunder;  and  could  neither  count,  nor  moan,  nor  have 
my  feet  to  help  me. 

**  Yet  hearkening,  as  a  coward  does,  through  the  brush- 
ing of  the  wind,  and  echo  of  far  noises,  I  heard  a  sharp 
sound  as  of  iron,  and  a  fall  of  heavy  wood.  No  unmanly 
shriek  came  with  it,  neither  cry  for  mercy.  Carver  Doone 
knows  what  it  was;  and  so  did  Alan  Brandir." 

Here  Lorna  Doone  could  tell  no  more,  being  overcome 
with  weeping.  Only  through  her  tears  she  whispered,  as  a 
thing  too  bad  to  tell,  that  she  had  seen  that  giant  Carver, 
in  a  few  days  afterward,  smoking  a  little  round  brown 
stick,  like  those  of  her  poor  cousin.  I  could  not  press  her 
any  more  i^ith  questions,  or  for  clearness;  althougli  I 
longed  very  much  to  know  whether  she  had  spoken  of  it 
to  her  grandfather  or  the  Counselor.  But  she  was  now  in 
such  a  condition,  both  of  mind  and  body,  from  the  force 
of  her  own  fear  multiplied  by  telling  it,  that  I  did  nothing 
more  than  coax  her,  at  a  distance  humbly;  and  so  that  she 
could  see  that  some  one  was  at  least  afraid  of  her.     This 


LORN  A  ENDS  HER  STORY.  165 

(although  I  knew  not  women  in  those  days,  as  I  now  do, 
and  never  shall  know  much  of  it),  this,  I  say,  so  brought 
her  round,  that  all  her  fear  was  now  for  me,  and  how  to 
get  me  safely  off,  without  mischance  to  any  one.  And 
sooth  to  say,  in  spite  of  longing  just  to  see  if  Master  Carver 
could  have  served  me  such  a  trick,  as  it  grew  toward  the 
dusk,  I  was  not  best  pleased  to  be  there;  for  it  seemed  a 
lawless  place,  and  some  of  Lorna's  fright  stayed  with  me  as 
1  talked  it  away  fj*om  her. 


166  LORNA  DOONE, 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A  LONG  SPRING   MONTH. 

After  hearing  that  tale  from  Lorna,  I  went  home  in 
sorry  spirits,  having  added  fear  of  her,  and  misery  about, 
to  all  my  other  ailments.  And  was  it  not  quite  certain 
now  that  she,  being  owned  full  cousin  to  a  peer  and  lord 
of  Scotland  (although  he  was  a  dead  one),  must  have 
naught  to  do  with  me,  a  yeoman's  son,  and  bound  to  be  the 
father  of  more  yeomen?  I  had  been  very  sorry  when  first 
I  heard  about  that  poor  young  popinjay,  and  would  gladly 
have  fought  hard  for  him;  but  now  it  struck  me  that  after 
all  he  had  no  right  to  be  there,  prowling  (as  it  were)  for 
Lorna,  without  any  invitation:  and  we  farmers  love  not 
trespass.  Still,  if  I  had  seen  the  thing,  I  must  have  tried 
to  save  him. 

Moreover,  I  was  greatly  vexed  with  my  own  hesitation, 
stupidity,  or  shyness,  or  whatever  else  it  was,  which  had 
held  me  back  from  saying,  ere  she  told  her  story,  what  was 
in  my  heart  to  say,  videlicet,  that  I  must  die  unless  she  let 
me  love  her.  Not  that  I  was  fool  enough  to  think  that 
she  would  answer  me  according  to  my  liking,  or  begin  to 
care  about  me  for  a  long  time  yet;  if  indeed  she  ever 
should,  which  I  hardly  dared  to  hope.  But  that  I  had 
heard  from  men  more  skillful  in  the  matter  that  it  is 
wise  to  be  in  time,  that  so  the  maids  may  begin  to  think, 
when  they  know  that  they  are  thought  of.  And,  to  tell 
the  truth,  I  had  bitter  fears,  on  account  of  her  wondrous . 
beauty,  lest  some  young  fellow  of  higher  birth,  and  finer  [ 
parts  and  finish,  might  steal  in  before  poor  me,  and  cut . 
me  out  altogether.  Thinking  of  which,  I  used  to  double 
my  great  fist,  without  knowing  it,  and  keep  it  in  my  pocket 
ready. 

But  the  worst  of  all  was  this,  that  in  my  great  dismay 
and  anguish  to  see  Lorna  weeping  so,  I  had  promised  not 


A  LONG  SPRING  MONTH.  167 

to  cause  her  any  further  trouble  from  anxiety  and  fear  of 
harm.  And  this,  being  brought  to  practice,  meant  that  I 
was  not  to  show  myself  within  the  precincts  of  Glen  Doono 
for  at  least  another  month.  Unless,  indeed  (as  I  contrived 
to  edge  into  the  agreement)  anything  should  happen  to  in- 
crease her  present  trouble  and  every  day's  uneasiness.  In 
that  case,  she  was  to  throw  a  dark  mantle,  or  covering 
of  some  sort,  over  a  large  white  stone  which  hung  within 
the  entrance  to  her  retreat — I  mean  the  outer  entrance — 
and  which,  though  unseen  from  the  valley  itself,  was  (as  I 
had  observed)  conspicuous  from  the  height  where  I  stood 
with  Uncle  Reuben. 

Now,  coming  home  so  sad  and  weary,  yet  trying  to  con- 
sole myself  with  the  thought  that  love  o'erleapeth  rank, 
and  must  still  be  lord  of  all,  I  found  a  shameful  thing 
going  on,  which  made  me  very  angry.  For  it  needs  must 
happen  that  young  Marwood  de  Whichehalse,  only  son  of 
the  Baron,  riding  home  that  very  evening,  from  chasing  of 
the  Exmoor  bustards,  with  his  hounds  and  serving-men, 
should  take  the  short  cut  through  our  farm-yard,  and 
being  dry  from  his  exercise,  should  come  and  ask  for 
drink.  And  it  needs  must  happen  also  that  there  should 
be  none  to  give  it  to  him  but  my  sister  Annie.  I  more 
than  suspect  that  he  had  heard  some  report  of  our  Annie's 
comeliness,  and  had  a  mind  to  satisfy  himself  upon  the 
subject.  Now,  as  he  took  the  large  ox-horn  of  our  quaran- 
tine-apple cider  (which  we  always  keep  apart  from  the  rest, 
being  too  good  except  for  the  quality),  he  let  his  fingers 
dwell  on  Annie's,  by  some  sort  of  accident,  while  he  lifted 
his  beaver  gallantly,  and  gazed  on  her  face  in  the  light 
from  the  west.  Then  what  did  Annie  do  (as  she  herself 
told  me  afterward)  but  make  her  very  best  courtesy  to 
him,  being  pleased  that  he  was  pleased  with  her,  while  she 
thought  what  a  fine  young  man  he  was,  and  so  much 
breeding  about  him!  And  in  truth  he  was  a  dark,  hand- 
some fellow,  hasty,  reckless,  and  changeable,  with  a  look 
of  sad  destiny  in  his  black  eyes  that  would  make  any 
woman  pity  him.  What  he  was  thinking  of  our  Annie  is 
not  for  me  to  say,  although  I  may  think  that  you  could 
not  have  found  another  such  maiden  on  Exmoor,  except 
(of  course)  my  Lorn  a. 

Though  young  Squire  Marwood  was  so  thirsty,  he  spent 


168  LORNA  BOONE, 

much  time  over  his  cider,  or  at  any  rate  over  the  ox-horn, 
and  he  made  many  bows  to  Annie,  and  drank  health  to  all 
the  family,  and  spoke  of  me  as  if  I  had  been  his  very  best 
friend  at  BlundelFs;  whereas  he  knew  well  enough  all  the 
time  that  we  had  naught  to  say  to  one  another;  he  being 
three  years  older,  and  therefore,  of  course,  disdaining  me. 
But  while  he  was  casting  about,  perhaps,  for  some  excuse 
to  stop  longer,  and  Annie  was  beginning  to  fear  lest  mother 
should  come  after  her,  or  Eliza  be  at  the  window,  or  Betty 
up  in  pig's  house,  suddenly  there  came  up  to  them,  as  if 
from  the  very  heart  of  the  earth,  that  long,  low,  hollow, 
mysterious  sound  which  I  spoke  of  in  the  winter. 

The  young  man  started  in  his  saddle,  let  the  horn  fall  on 
the  horse-steps,  and  gazed  all  around  in  wonder;  while  as 
for  Annie,  she  turned  like  a  ghost,  and  tried  to  slam  the 
door,  but  failed  through  the  violence  of  her  trembling;  for 
never  till  now  had  any  one  heard  it  so  close  at  hand  (as  you 
might  say),  or  in  the  mere  fall  of  the  twilight.  And  by 
this  time  there  was  no  man,  at  least  in  our  parish,  but 
knew — for  the  Parson  himself  had  told  us  so — that  it  was 
the  devil  groaning  because  the  Doones  were  too  many  for 
him. 

Marwood  de  Whichehalse  was  not  so  alarmed  but  what 
he  saw  a  fine  opportunity.  He  leaped  from  his  horse,  and 
laid  hold  of  dear  Annie  in  a  highly  comforting  manner; 
and  she  never  would  tell  us  about  it  (being  so  shy  and 
modest),  whether  in  breathing  his  comfort  to  her  he  tried 
to  take  some  from  her  pure  lips.  I  hope  he  did  not,  be- 
cause that  to  me  would  seem  not  the  deed  of  a  gentleman, 
and  he  was  of  good  old  family. 

At  this  very  moment,  who  should  come  in  to  the  end  of 
the  passage  upon  them  but  the  heavy  writer  of  these  doings, 
I,  John  Ridd  myself,  and  walking  the  faster,  it  may  be,  on 
account  of  the  noise  I  mentioned.  I  entered  the  house 
with  some  wrath  upon  me  at  seeing  the  gazehounds  in  the 
yard;  for  it  seems  a  cruel  thing  to  me  to  harass  the  birds 
in  the  breeding-time.  And  to  my  amazement  there  I  saAv 
Squire  Marwood  among  the  milk-pans  with  his  arm  around 
our  Annie's  waist,  and  Annie  all  blushing  and  coaxing  liim 
off,  for  she  was  not  come  to  scold  yet. 

Perhaps  I  was  wrong;  God  knows,  and  if  I  was,  no  doubt 
I  shall  pay  for  it;  but  I  gave  him  the  flat  of  my  hand  on 


A  LONG  SPRmO  MONTH,  169 

his  head,  ancl  down  he  went  in  the  thick  of  the  milk-pans. 
He  would  have  had  my  fist,  I  doubt,  but  for  having  been 
at  school  with  me;  and  after  that  it  is  like  enough  he  would 
never  have  spoken  another  word.  As  it  was,  he  lay  stunned, 
with  the  cream  running  on  him^  while  I  took  poor  Annie 
up  and  carried  her  in  to  mother,  who  had  heard  the  noise 
and  was  frightened. 

Concerning  this  matter  I  asked  no  more,  but  held  myself 
ready  to  bear  it  out  in  any  form  convenient,  feeling  that  I 
had  done  my  duty,  and  cared  not  for  the  consequence; 
only  for  several  days  dear  Annie  seemed  frightened  rather 
than  grateful.  But  the  oddest  result  of  it  was  that  Eliza, 
who  had  so  despised  me,  and  made  very  rude  verses  about 
me,  now  came  trying  to  sit  on  my  knee,  and  kiss  me,  and 
give  me  the  best  of  the  pan.  However,  I  would  not  allow 
it,  because  I  hate  sudden  changes. 

Another  thing  also  astonished  me — namely,  a  beautiful 
letter  from  Marwood  de  Whichehalse  himself  (sent  by  a 
groom  soon  afterward),  in  which  he  apologized  to  me,  as  if 
I  had  been  his  equal,  for  his  rudeness  to  my  sister,  which 
was  not  intended  in  the  least,  but  came  of  their  common 
alarm  at  the  moment,  and  his  desire  to  comfort  her.  Also 
he  begged  permission  to  come  and  see  me,  as  an  old  school- 
fellow, and  set  every  thing  straight  between  us,  as  should 
be  among  honest  Bluudelites. 

All  this  was  so  different  to  my  idea  of  fighting  out  a 
quarrel,  when  once  it  is  upon  a  man,  that  T  knew  not  what 
to  make  of  it,  but  bowed  to  higher  breeding.  Only  one 
thing  I  resolved  upon,  that  come  when  he  would  he  should 
not  see  x\nnie.  And  to  do  my  sister  justice,  she  had  no 
desire  to  see  him. 

However,  I  am  too  easy,  there  is  no  doubt  of  that,  being 
very  quick  to  forgive  a  man,  and  very  slow  to  suspect, 
unless  he  hath  once  lied  to  me.  Moreover,  as  to  Annie,  it 
had  always  seemed  to  me  (much  against  my  wishes)  that 
some  shrewd  love  of  a  waiting  sort  was  between  her  and 
Tom  Faggus;  and  though  Tom  had  made  his  fortune  now, 
and  every  body  respected  him,  of  course  he  was  not  to  be 
compared,  in  that  point  of  respectability,  with  those  people 
who  hanged  the  robbers  when  fortune  turned  against  them. 

So  young  Squire  Marwood  came  a^ain,  as  though  I  had 
never' smitten  him,  and  spoke  of  it  m  as  light  a  way  as  if 


170  LORNA  DOONE, 

we  were  still  at  school  together.  It  was  not  in  my  nature, 
of  course,  to  keep  any  anger  against  him;  and  I  knew  what 
a  condescension  it  was  for  him  to  visit  us.  And  it  is  a 
very  grievous  thing,  which  touches  small  land-owners,  to 
see  an  ancient  family  day  by  day  decaying;  and  when  we 
heard  that  Ley  Barton  itself,  and  all  the  Manor  of  Lynton, 
were  under  a  heavy  mortgage  debt  to  John  Levering,  of 
Weare-Gifford,  there  was  not  much,  in  our  little  way,  that 
we  would  not  gladly  do  or  suffer  for  the  benefit  of  De 
Whichehalse. 

Meanwhile,  the  work  of  the  farm  was  toward,  and  every 
day  gave  us  more  ado  to  dispose  of  what  itself  was  doing. 
For  after  the  long,  dry,  sweltering  wind  of  March  and  part 
of  April,  there  had  been  a  fortnight  of  soft  wet;  and  when 
the  sun  came  forth  again,  hill  and  valley,  wood  and 
meadow,  could  not  make  enough  of  him.  Many  a  spring 
have  I  seen  since  then,  but  never  yet  two  springs  alike,  and 
never  one  so  beautiful.  Or  was  it  that  my  love  came  forth 
and  touched  the  world  with  beauty? 

The  spring  was  in  our  valley  now,  creeping  first  for 
shelter  shyly  in  the  pause  of  the  blustering  wind.  There 
the  lambs  came  bleating  to  her,  and  the  orchis  lifted  up, 
and  the  thin  dead  leaves  of  clover  lay  for  the  new  ones  to 
spring  through.  Then  the  stiffest  things  that  sleep,  the 
stubby  oak,  and  the  saplin'd  beech,  dropped  their  brown 
defiance  to  her,  and  prepared  for  a  soft  reply.  While  her 
over-eager  children  (who  had  started  forth  to  meet  her, 
through  the  frost  and  shower  of  sleet),  catkin'd  hazel, 
gold-gloved  withy,  youthful  elder,  and  old  woodbine,  with 
all  the  tribe  of  good  hedge-climbers  (who  must  hasten 
while  haste  they  may) — was  there  one  of  them  that  did  not 
claim  the  merit  of  coming  first? 

There  she  stayed  and  held  her  revel,  as  soon  as  the  fear  of 
frost  was  gone;  all  the  air  was  a  fount  of  freshness,  and 
the  earth  of  gladness,  and  the  laughing  waters  prattled  of 
the  kindness  of  the  sun. 

But  all  this  made  it  much  harder  for  us,  plying  the  hoe 
and  rake,  to  keep  the  fields  with  room  upon  them  for  the 
corn  to  tiller.  The  winter  wheat  was  well  enough,  being 
sturdy  and  strong-sided;  but  the  spring  wheat  and  the  bar- 
ley and  the  oats  were  overrun  by  ill  weeds  growing  faster. 
Therefore,  as  the  old  saying  is, 


A  LONG  SPRING  MONTH,  1^1 

*•  Farmer,  that  thy  wife  may  thrive, 
Let  not  burr  and  burdock  wive; 
And  if  thou  wouldst  keep  thy  son, 
See  that  bine  and  gith  have  non«." 

So  we  were  compelled  to  go  down  the  field  and  up  it, 
striking  in  and  out  with  care  where  the  green  blades  hung 
together,  so  that  each  had  space  to  move  in  and  to  spread 
its  roots  abroad  And  I  do  assure  you  now,  though  you 
may  not  believe  me,  it  was  harder  work  to  keep  John  Fry, 
Bill  Dadds,  and  Jem  Slocomb  all  in  a  line,  and  all  moving 
nimbly  to  the  tune  of  my  own  tool,  than  it  was  to  set  out 
in  the  morning  alone,  and  hoe  half  an  acre  by  dinner- 
time. For,  instead  of  keeping  the  good  ash  moving,  they 
would  forever  be  finding  something  to  look  at  or  to  sj)eak 
of,  or  at  any  rate  to  stop  with;  blaming  the  shape  of  their 
tools,  perhaps,  or  talking  about  other  people's  affairs;  or 
what  was  most  irKsome  of  all  to  me,  taking  advantage  as 
married  men,  and  whispering  jokes  of  no  excellence  about 
my  having,  or  having  not,  or  being  ashamed  of  a  sweet- 
heart. And  this  went  so  far  at  last,  that  I  was  forced  to 
take  two  of  them  and  knock  their  heads  together;  after 
which  they  worked  with  a  better  will. 

When  we  met  together  in  the  evening  round  the  kitchen 
chimney-place,  after  the  men  had  had  their  supper  and 
their  heavy  boots  were  gone,  my  mother  and  Eliza  would 
do  their  very  utmost  to  learn  what  I  was  thinking  of. 
Not  that  we  kept  any  fire  now,  after  the  crock  was 
emptied;  but  that  we  loved  to  see  the  ashes  cooling,  and 
to  be  together.  At  these  times  Annie  would  never  ask  me 
any  crafty  questions  (as  Eliza  did),  but  would  sit  with  her 
hair  untwined,  and  one  hand  underneath  her  chin,  some- 
times looking  softly  at  me,  as  much  as  to  say  that  she 
knew  it  all,  and  I  was  no  worse  off  than  she.  But,  strange 
to  say,  my  mother  dreamed  not,  even  for  an  instant,  that 
it  was  possible  for  Annie  to  be  thinking  of  such  a  thing. 
She  was  so  very  good  and  quiet,  careful  of  the  linen  and 
clever  about  the  cookery  and  fowls  and  bacon-curing,  that 
people  used  to  laugh,  and  say  she  would  never  look  at  a 
bachelor  until  her  mother  ordered  her.  But  I  (perhaps 
from  my  own  condition  and  the  sense  of  what  it  was)  felt 
no  certainty  about  this,  and  even  had  another  opinon,  as 
was  said  before. 


172  lORNA  DOONE. 

Ofteu  I  was  much  inclined  to  speak  to  her  about  it,  and 
put  her  on  her  guard  against  the  approaches  of  Tom 
Faggus;  but  I  could  not  find  how  to  begin,  and  feared  to 
make  a  breach  between  us;  knowing  that  if  her  mind  was 
set,  no  words  of  mine  would  alter  it;  although  they  needs 
must  grieve  her  deeply.  Moreover,  I  felt  that  in  this  case 
a  certain  homely  Devonshire  proverb  would  come  home  to 
me;  that  one,  I  mean,  which  records  that  the  crock  was 
calling  the  kettle  smutty.  Not,  of  course,  that  I  compared 
my  innocent  maid  to  a  highwayman;  but  that  Annie  might 
think  her  worse,  and  would  be  too  apt  to  do  so,  if  indeed 
she  loved  Tom  Faggus.  And  our  cousin  Tom,  by  this 
time,  was  living  a  quiet  and  godly  life;  having  retired 
almost  from  the  trade  (except  when  he  needed  excitement 
or  came  across  public  officers),  and  having  won  the  esteem 
of  all  whose  purses  were  in  his  power. 

Perhaps  it  is  needless  for  me  to  say  that  all  this  time, 
while  my  month  was  running — or  rather  crawling,  for 
never  month  went  so  slow  as  that  with  me — neither  weed, 
nor  seed,  nor  cattle,  nor  my  own  mother's  anxiety,  nor  any 
care  for  my  sister,  kept  me  from  looking  once  every  day, 
and  even  twice  on  a  Sunday,  for  any  sign  of  Lorna.  For 
my  heart  was  ever  weary;  in  the  budding  valleys,  and  by 
the  crystal  waters,  looking  at  the  lambs  in  fold,  or  the 
heifers  on  the  hill,  laboring  in  trickled  furrows,  or  among 
the  beaded  blades;  halting  fresh  to  see  the  sun  lift  over 
the  golden-vapored  ridge;  or  doffing  hat,  from  sweat  of 
brow,  to  watch  him  sink  in  the  low  gray  sea;  be  it  as  it 
would  of  day,  of  work,  of  night,  or  slumber,  it  was  a  weary 
heart  I  bore,  and  fear  was  on  the  brink  of  it. 

All  the  beauty  of  the  spring  went  for  happy  men  to 
think  of;  all  the  increase  of  the  year  was  for  other  eyes  to 
mark.  Kot  a  sign  of  any  sunrise  for  me  from  my  fount 
of  life;  not  a  breath  to  stir  the  dead  leaves  fallen,  on  my 
heart's  spring. 


A  ROYAL  INVITATIOir.  1^3 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A    ROYAL     INVITATION". 

Although  I  had,  for  the  most  part,  so  very  stout  an 
appetite  that  none  but  mother  saw  any  need  of  encourag- 
ing me  to  eat,  I  could  only  manage  one  'true  good  meal  in 
a  day,  at  the  time  I  speak  of.  Mother  was  in  despair  at 
this,  and  tempted  me  with  the  whole  of  the  rack,  and  even 
talked  of  sending  to  Porlock  for  a  druggist  who  came  there 
twice  in  a  week;  and  Annie  spent  all  her  time  in  cooking; 
and  even  Lizzie  sung  songs  to  me,  for  she  could  sing  very 
sweetly.  But  my  conscience  told  me  that  Betty  Mux- 
worthy  had  some  reason  upon  her  side. 

^'  Latt  the  young  ozebird  aloun,  zay  I.  Makk  zucli  ado 
about  nn,  wi'  hogs'-puddens,  and  hock-bits,  and  lambs'- 
mate,  and  whaten  bradd  indade,  and  brewers'  ale  avore 
dinner-time,  and  her  not  to  zit  wi'  no  winder  aupen — 
draive  me  mad  'e  doo,  the  lot  ov'ee,  zuch  a  passel  of 
voouls.  Do'  un  good  to  starve  a  bit,  and  takk  zome  ou's 
wackedness  out  ov  un." 

But  mother  did  not  see  it  so;  and  she  even  sent  for 
Nicholas  Snowe  to  bring  his  three  daughters  with  him, 
and  have  ale  and  cake  in  the  parlor,  and  advise  about  what 
the  bees  were  doing,  and  when  a  swarm  might  be  looked 
for.  Being  vexed  about  this,  and  having  to  stop  at  home 
nearly  half  the  evening,  I  lost  good  manners  so  much  as 
to  ask  him  (even  in  our  own  house)  what  he  meant  by 
not  mending  the  swing-hurdle  where  the  Lynn  stream 
flows  from  our  land  into  his,  and  which  he  is  bound  to 
maintain.  But  he  looked  at  me  in  a  superior  manner, 
and  said,  '*  Business,  young  man,  in  business  time." 

I  had  other  reason  for  being  vexed  with  Farmer 
Nicholas  just  now,  viz.,  that  I  had  heard  a  rumor,  after 
church  one  Sunday — when  most  of  all  we  sorrow  over  the 
sins  of  one  another — that  Master  Nicholas  Snowe  had  been 


174  LORN  A  BOONE. 

seen  to  gaze  tenderly  at  my  mother,  during  a  passage  of 
the  sermon,  wherein  the  parson  spoke  well  and  warmly 
about  the  duty  of  Christian  love.  Now,  putting  one 
thing  with  another,  about  the  bees,  and  about  some  ducks, 
and  a  bullock  with  a  broken  knee-cap,  I  more  than  sus- 
pected that  Farmer  Nicholas  was  casting  sheep's  eyes  at 
my  mother;  not  only  to  save  all  further  trouble  in  the 
matter  of  the  hurdle,  but  to  override  me  altogether  upon 
the  difficult  question  of  damming.  And  I  knew  quite  well 
that  John  Fry's  wife  never  came  to  help  at  the  washing 
without  declaring  that  it  was  a  sin  for  a  well-looking 
woman  like  mother,  with  plenty  to  live  on,  and  only  three 
children,  to  keep  all  the  farmers  for  miles  around  so  unset- 
tled in  their  minds  about  her.  Mother  used  to  answer, 
"  Oh  fie.  Mistress  Fry!  be  good  enough  to  mind  your  own 
business."  But  we  always  saw  that  she  smoothed  her 
apron,  and  did  her  hair  up  afterward,  and  that  Mistress 
Fry  went  home  at  night  with  a  cold  pig's  foot  or  a  bowl 
of  dripping. 

Therefore,  on  that  very  night,  as  I  could  not  well  speak 
to  mother  about  it,  without  seeming  undutiful,  after 
lighting  the  three  young  ladies — for  so  in  sooth  they  called 
themselves — all  the  way  home  with  our  stable-lantern,  I 
begged  good  leave  of  Farmer  Nicholas  (who  had  hung 
some  way  behind  us)  to  say  a  word  in  private  to  him  before 
he  entered  his  own  house. 

"  Wi'  all  the  plaisure  in  laife,  my  zon,"  he  answered, 
very  graciously,  thinking  perhaps  that  I  was  prepared  to 
speak  concerning  Sally. 

''Now,  Farmer  Nicholas  Snowe,"  I  said,  scarce  knowing 
how  to  begin  it,  ''you  must  promise  not  to  be  vexed  with 
me,  for  what  I  am  going  to  say  to  you." 

"  Vaxed  wi  thee!  Noo,  noo,  my  lad.  I  'ave  a-knowed 
thee  too  long  for  that.  And  thy  veyther  were  my  best 
friend,  avore  thee.  Never  wronged  his  neighbors,  never 
spak  an  unkind  word,  never  had  no  maneness  in  him. 
Tuk  a  vancy  to  a  nice  young  'ooman,  and  never  kep  her  in 
doubt  about  it,  though  there  wadn't  mooch  to  zettle  on 
her.  Spak  his  maind  laike  a  man,  he  did;  and  right 
happy  he  were  wi'  her.  Ah,  well-a-day!  Ah,  God, 
knoweth  best.  I  never  shall  zee  his  laike  again.  And  he 
were  the  best  judge  of  a  dung-heap  anywhere  in  this 
county/' 


A  ROYAL  INVITATION,  175 

"Well,  Master  Snowe/^  I  answered  him,  ''it  is  very 
handsome  of  you  to  say  so.  And  now  I  am  going  to  be 
like  my  father,  I  am  going  to  speak  my  mind." 

*'Raight  there,  lad;  raight  enough,  I  reckon.  Us  has 
had  enough  of  pralimbinary." 

"  Then  what  I  want  to  say  is  this — I  won't  have  anyone 
courting  my  mother." 

"Coortin'  of  thy  mother,  lad?"  cried  Farmer  Snowe, 
with  as  much  amazement  as  if  the  thing  were  impossible; 
•'  why,  who  ever  hath  been  doin'  of  it?" 

"Yes,  courting  of  my  mother,  sir.  And  you  know  best 
who  comes  doing  it." 

"  Wull,  wull!  What  will  boys  be  up  to  next?  Zhud  a' 
thought  herzelf  wor  the  proper  judge.  Ko  thank  ee^  lad, 
no  need  of  thy  light.  Know  the  wai  to  my  own  door,  at 
laste;  and  have  a  raight  to  goo  there."  And  he  shut  me 
out  without  so  much  as  offering  me  a  drink  of  cider. 

The  next  afternoon,  when  work  was  over,  I  had  seen  to 
the  horses,  for  now  it  was  foolish  to  trust  John  Fry,  be- 
cause he  had  so  many  children,  and  his  wife  had  taken  to 
scolding;  and  just  as  I  was  saying  to  myself  that  in  five 
days  more  my  month  would  be  done,  and  myself  free  to 
seek  Lorna,  a  man  came  riding  up  from  the  ford  where 
the  road  goes  through  the  Lynn  stream.  As  soon  as  I  saw 
that  it  was  not  Tom  Faggus,  I  went  no  farther  to  meet 
him,  counting  that  it  must  be  some  traveler  bound  for 
Brendon  or  Cheriton,  and  likely  enough  he  would  come  and 
beg  for  a  draught  of  milk  or  cider;  and  then  on  again, 
after  asking  the  way. 

But  instead  of  that,  he  stopped  at  our  gate,  and  stood 
up  from  his  saddle,  and  hallooed  as  if  he  were  somebody; 
and  all  the  time  he  was  flourishing  a  white  thing  in  the  air, 
like  the  bands  our  parson  weareth.  So  I  crossed  the  court- 
yard to  speak  with  him. 

"  Service  of  the  King!"  he  saith;  "service  of  our  lord 
the  King!  Come  hither,  thou  great  yokel,  at  risk  of  fine 
and  imprisonment." 

Although  not  pleased  at  this,  I  went  to  him,  as  became 
a  loyal  man;  quite  at  my  leisure,  however,  for  there  is  no 
man  born  who  can  hurry  me,  though  I  hasten  for  any 
woman. 

"  Plover  Barrows  farm!"  said  ho;  "  God  only  knows  how 


176  LOUNA  DOONE, 

tired  I  be.  Is  there  anywhere  in  this  cursed  county  a 
cursed  place  called  ^Plover  Barrows  farm?'  For  last 
twenty  mile  at  least  they  told  me  'twere  only  half  a  mile 
farther,  or  only  just  round  corner.  Now  tell  me  that,  and 
I  fain  would  thwack  thee,  if  thou  wert  not  thrice  my  size." 

"  Sir,"  I  replied,  you  shall  not  have  the  trouble.  This 
is  Plover  Barrows  farm,  and  you  are  kindly  welcome. 
Sheep's  kidneys  is  for  supper,  and  the  ale  got  bright  from 
the  tapping.  But  why  do  you  think  ill  of  us?  We  like 
not  to  be  cursed  so." 

'^Nay,  I  think  no  ill,"  he  said;  ''sheep's  kidneys  is  good, 
uncommon  good,  if  they  do  them  without  burning.  But 
I  be  so  galled  in  the  saddle  ten  days,  and  never  a  comely 
meal  of  it.  And  when  they  hear  '  King's  service '  cried, 
they  give  me  the  worst  of  everything.  All  the  way  down 
from  London,  I  had  a  rogue  of  a  fellow  in  front  of  me, 
eating  the  fat  of  the  land  before  me,  and  every  one  bowing 
down  to  him.  He  could  go  three  miles  to  my  one,  though 
he  never  changed  his  horse.  He  might  have  robbed  me  at 
any  minute,  if  I  had  been  worth  the  trouble.  A  red  mare 
he  rideth,  strong  in  the  loins,  and  pointed  quite  small  in 
the  head.     I  shall  live  to  see  him  hanged  yet." 

All  this  time  he  was  riding  across  the  straw  of  our  court- 
yard, getting  his  weary  legs  out  of  the  leathers,  and  almost 
afraid  to  stand  yet.  A  coarse-grained,  hard-faced  man  he 
was,  some  forty  years  of  age  or  so,  and  of  middle  height 
and  stature.  He  was  dressed  in  a  dark-brown  riding-suit, 
none  the  better  for  Exmoor  mud,  but  fitting  him  very  dif- 
ferently from  the  fashion  of  our  tailors.  Across  the 
holsters  lay  his  cloak,  made  of  some  red  skin,  and  shining 
from  the  sweating  of  the  horse.  As  I  looked  down  on  his 
stiff  bright  head-piece,  small  quick  eyes,  and  black  needly 
beard,  he  seemed  to  despise  me  (too  much,  as  I  thought) 
for  a  mere  ignoramus  and  country  bumpkin. 

''Annie,  have  down  the  cut  ham,"  I  shouted,  for  my 
sister  was  come  to  the  door  by  chance,  or  because  of  the 
sound  of  a  horse  in  the  road,  "and  cut  a  few  rashers  of 
hung  deer's  meat.  There  is  a  gentleman  come  to  sup, 
Annie.  And  fetch  the  hops  out  of  the  tap  with  a  skewer, 
that  it  may  run  more  sparkling." 

"  I  wish  I  may  go  to  a  place  never  meant  for  me,"  said 
my  new  friend,  now  wiping  his  mouth  with  the  sleeve  of 


A  ROYAL  INVlTATIOir.  177 

his  brown  riding-coat,  '*  if  ever  I  fell  among  such  good 
folk.  You  are  the  right  sort,  and  no  error  therein.  All 
this  shall  go  in  your  favor  greatly,  when  I  make  deposition. 
At  least,  I  mean,  if  it  be  as  good  in  the  eating  as  in  the 
hearing.  ^Tis  a  supper  quite  fit  for  Tom  Faggus  himself, 
the  man  vyho  hath  stolen  my  victuals  so.  And  that  hung 
deer's  meat,  now  is  it  of  the  red  deer  running  wild  in  these 
parts?" 

**  To  be  sure  it  is,  sir,^'  I  answered;  *'  where  should  we 
get  any  other?" 

''  Right,  right,  you  are  right,  my  son.  I  have  heard  that 
the  flavor  is  marvelous.  Some  of  them  came  and  scared 
me  so,  in  the  fog  of  the  morning,  that  I  hungered  for 
them  ever  since.  Ha,  ha,  I  saw  their  haunches.  But  the 
young  lady  will  not  forget — art  sure  she  will  not  for- 
get it?" 

*'  You  may  trust  her  to  forget  nothing,  sir,  that  may 
tempt  a  guest  to  his  comfort." 

^'  In  faith,  then,  I  will  leave  my  horse  in  your  hands, 
and  be  off  for  it.  Half  the  pleasure  of  the  mouth  is  in  the 
nose  beforehand.  But  stay,  almost  I  forgot  my  business, 
in  the  hurry  which  thy  tongue  hath  spread  through  my 
lately  despairing  belly.  Hungry  I  am,  and  sore  of  body, 
from  my  heels  right  upward,  and  sorest  in  front  of  my 
doublet;  yet  may  I  not  rest  nor  bite  barley-bread  until  I 
have  seen  and  touched  John  Ridd.  God  grant  that  he  be 
not  far  away;  I  must  eat  my  saddle,  if  it  be  so." 

*^  Have  no  fear,  good  sir,"  I  answered,  "you  have  seen 
and  touched  John  Ridd.  I  am  he,  and  not  one  likely  to 
go  beneath  a  bushel." 

"  It  would  take  a  large  bushel  to  hold  thee,  John  Ridd. 
In  the  name  of  the  King,  His  Majesty,  Charles  the  Second, 
these  presents!" 

He  touched  me  with  the  white  thing  which  I  had  first 
seen  him  waving,  and  which  I  now  beheld  to  be  sheep- 
skin, such  as  they  call  parchment.  It  was  tied  across  with 
cord,  and  fastened  down  in  every  corner  with  unsightly 
dabs  of  wax.  By  order  of  the  messenger  (for  I  was 
overfrightened  now  to  think  of  doing  anything),  I  broke 
enough  of  seals  to  keep  an  Easter  ghost  from  rising;  and 
there  I  saw  my  name  in  large;  God  grant  such  another 
shock  may  never  befall  me  in  my  old  age. 


178  LORNA  DOONE. 

''Read,  my  son;  read,  tliou  great  fool,  if  indeed  thou 
canst  read,"  said  the  officer,  to  encourage  me;  '*  there  is 
nothing  to  kill  thee,  boy,  and  my  supper  will  be  spoiling. 
Stare  not  at  me  so,  thou  fool;  thou  art  big  enough  to  eat 
nie;  read,  read,  read." 

*'If  you  please,  sir,  what  is  your  name?"  I  asked, 
though  why  I  asked  him  I  know  not,  except  from  fear  of 
witchcraft. 

*' Jeremy  Stickles  is  my  name,  lad;  nothing  more  than 
a  poor  apparitor  of  the  worshipful  Court  of  King's  Bench. 
And  at  this  moment  a  starving  one,  and  no  supper  for  me 
unless  thou  wilt  read." 

Being  compelled  in  this  way,  I  read  pretty  nigh  as  fol- 
lows; not  that  I  give  the  whole  of  it,  but  only  the  gist  and 
the  emphasis: 

''To  our  good  subject,  John  Ridd,  etc." — describing  me 
ever  so  much  better  than  I  knew  myself — "  by  these  pres- 
ents, greeting.  These  are  to  require  thee,  in  the  name  of 
our  lord  the  King,  to  appear  in  person  before  the  Right 
Worshipful  the  Justices  of  His  Majesty's  Bench  at  West- 
minster, laying  aside  all  thine  own  business,  and  there  to 
deliver  such  evidence  as  is  within  thy  cognizance,  touching 
certain  matters  whereby  the  peace  of  our  said  lord  the 
King,  and  the  well-being  of  this  realm,  is,  are,  or  other- 
wise may  be  impeached,  impugned,  imperiled,  or  otherwise 
detrimented.  As  witness  these  presents."  And  then 
there  were  four  seals,  and  then  a  signature  I  could  not 
make  out,  only  that  it  began  with  a  J,  and  ended  with 
some  other  writing,  done  almost  in  a  circle.  Underneath 
was  added  in  a  diiferent  handwriting,  "  Charges  will  be 
borne.     The  matter  is  full  urgent." 

The  messenger  watched  me  while  I  read  so  much  as  I 
could  read  of  it;  and  he  seemed  well  pleased  with  my  sur- 
prise, because  he  had  expected  it.  Then,  not  knowing 
Avhat  else  to  do,  I  look  again  at  the  cover,  and  on  the  top 
of  it  I  saw,  "Ride,  Ride,  Ride!  On  His  Gracious  Maj- 
esty's business;  spur  and  spare  not." 

It  may  be  supposed  by  all  who  know  me,  that  I  was 
taken  hereupon  with  such  a  giddiness  in  my  head,  and 
noisiness  in  my  ears,  that  I  was  forced  to  hold  by  the  crook 
driven  in  below  the  thatch  for  holding  of  the  hay-rakes. 
There  was  scarcely  any  sense  left  in  me,  only  that  the 


A  ROYAL  INVITATION.  179 

thing  was  come  by  power  of  Mother  Melldrum,  because  I 
despised  her  warning,  and  had  again  sought  Lorna.  But 
the  officer  was  grieved  for  me,  and  the  danger  to  his 
supper. 

"  My  son,  be  not  afraid,^'  he  said,  *'  we  are  not  going  to 
skin  thee.  Only  thou  tell  all  the  truth,  and  it  shall  be — 
but  never  mind,  I  will  tell  thee  all  about  it,  and  how  to 
come  out  harmless,  if  I  find  thy  victuals  good,  and  no 
delay  in  serving  them." 

**  We  do  our  best,  sir,  without  bargain,"  said  I,  '*  to 
please  our  visitors." 

But  when  my  mother  saw  that  parchment  (for  we  could 
not  keep  it  from  her),  she  fell  away  into  her  favorite  bed 
of  stock  gilly-flowers,  which  she  had  been  tending;  and  when 
we  brought  her  round  again,  did  nothing  but  exclaim  against 
the  wickedness  of  the  age  and  people.  **  It  was  useless  to 
tell  her;  she  knew  what  it  was,  and  so  should  all  the  parish 
know.  The  King  had  heard  what  her  son  was,  how  sober, 
and  quiet,  and  diligent,  and  the  strongest  young  man  in 
England;  and  being  himself  such  a  reprobate — God  for- 
give her  for  saying  so — he  could  never  rest  till  he  got  poor 
Johnny,  and  made  him  as  dissolute  as  himself.  And  if  he 
did  that" — here  mother  went  off  into  a  fit  of  crying;  and 
Annie  minded  her  face,  while  Lizzie  saw  that  her  gown 
was  in  comely  order. 

But  the  character  of  the  King  improved,  when  Master 
Jeremy  Stickles  (being  really  moved  by  the  look  of  it,  and 
no  bad  man  after  all)  laid  it  clearly  before  my  mother  that 
the  King  on  his  throne  was  unhappy,  until  he  had  seen 
John  Ridd.  That  the  fame  of  John  had  gone  so  far,  and 
his  size,  and  all  his  virtues — that  verily  by  the  God  who 
made  him,  the  King  was  overcome  with  it. 

Then  mother  lay  back  in  her  garden-chair,  and  smiled 
upon  the  whole  of  us,  and  most  of  all  on  Jeremy;  looking 
only  shyly  on  me,  and  speaking  through  some  break  of 
tears.  **  His  Majesty  shall  have  my  John;  His  Majesty  is 
very  good:  but  only  for  a  fortnight.  I  want  no  titles  for 
him.  Johnny  is  enough  for  me;  and  Master  John  for  the 
working  men." 

Now,  though  my  mother  was  so  willing  that  I  should  go 
to  London  expecting  great  promotion  and  high  glory  for 
me,  I  myself  was  deeply  gone  into  the  pit  of  sorrow.     For 


180  LORN^  BOONE, 

what  would  Lorna  think  of  me?  Here  was  the  long  month 
just  expired,  after  worlds  of  waiting;  there  would  be  her 
lovely  self,  peeping  softly  down  the  glen,  and  fearing  to 
encourage  me;  yet  there  would  be  nobody  else,  and  what 
an  insult  to  her?  Dwelling  upon  this,  and  seeing  no 
chance  of  escape  from  it,  I  could  not  find  one  wink  of 
sleep;  though  Jeremy  Stickles  (who  slept  close  by)  snored 
loud  enough  to  spare  me  some.  For  I  felt  myself  to  be,  as 
it  were,  in  a  place  of  some  importance;  in  a  situation  of 
trust,  I  may  say;  and  bound  not  to  depart  from  it.  For 
who  could  tell  what  the  King  might  have  to  say  to  me 
about  the  Doones — and  I  felt  that  they  were  at  the  bottom 
of  this  strange  appearance — or  what  his  Majesty  might 
think,  if  after  receiving  a  message  from  him  (trusty  under 
so  many  seals),  I  were  to  violate  his  faith  in  me  as 
a  church- warden's  son,  and  falsely  spread  his  words 
abroad  ? 

Perhaps  I  was  not  wise  in  building  such  a  wall  of 
scruples.  Nevertheless,  all  that  was  there,  and  weighed 
upon  me  heavily.  And  at  last  I  made  up  my  mind  to  this, 
that  even  Lorna  must  not  know  the  reason  of  my  going, 
neither  anything  about  it;  but  that  she  might  know  I  was 
gone  a  long  way  from  home,  and  perhaps  be  sorry  for  it. 
Now  how  was  I  to  let  her  know  even  that  much  of  the 
matter,  without  breaking  compact? 

Puzzling  on  this,  I  fell  asleep,  after  the  proper  time  to 
get  up;  nor  was  I  to  be  seen  at  breakfast-time;  and  mother 
(being  quite  strange  to  that)  was  very  uneasy  about  it. 
But  Master  Stickles  assured  her  that  the  King's  writ  often 
had  that  effect,  and  the  symptom  was  a  good  one. 

"  Now,  Master  Stickles,  when  must  we  start?"  I  asked 
him,  as  he  lounged  in  the  yard  gazing  at  our  turkey  poults 
picking  and  running  in  the  sun  to  the  tune  of  their  father's 
gobble.  "  Your  horse  was  greatly  foundered,  sir,  and  is 
hardly  fit  for  the  road  to-day;  and  Smiler  was  sledding 
yesterday  all  up  the  higher  Cleve;  and  none  of  the  rest  can 
carry  me." 

**  In  a  few  more  years,"  replied  the  King's  officer,  con- 
templating me  with  much  satisfaction;  '"twill  be  a  cruelty 
to  any  horse  to  put  thee  on  his  back,  John." 

Master  Stickles,  by  this  time,  was  quite  familiar  with  us, 
calling  me  *' Jack,"  and  Eliza  "Lizzie,"  and  what  I  liked 
the  least  of  all,  our  pretty  Annie  **  Nancy." 


A  MOV  A  L  INYITA  TION,  181 

'^  That  will  be  as  God  pleases,  sir,"  I  answered  him, 
rather  sharply;  *'and  the  horse  that  suffers  will  not  be 
thine.  But  I  wish  to  know  when  we  must  start  upon  our 
long  travel  to  London  town.  I  perceive  that  the  matter 
is  of  great  dispatch  and  urgency." 

**  To  be  sure,  so  it  is,  my  son.  But  I  see  a  yearling 
turkey  there,  him  I  mean  with  the  hop  in  his  walk,  who 
(if  I  know  aught  of  fowls)  would  roast  well  feo-morrow. 
Thy  mother  must  have  preparation:  it  is  no  more  than 
reasonable.  Now,  have  that  turkey  killed  to-night  (for  his 
fatness  makes  me  long  for  him),  and  we  will  have  him  for 
dinner  to-morrow,  with,  perhaps,  one  of  his  brethren;  and 
a  few  more  collops  of  red  deer's  flesh  for  supper;  and  then 
on  the  Friday  morning,  with  the  grace  of  God,  we  will  set 
our  faces  to  the  road,  upon  His  Majesty's  business." 

"Nay,  but  good  sir,"  I  asked  with  some  trembling,  so 
eager  was  I  to  see  Lorna;  "  if  His  Majesty's  business  will 
keep  till  Friday,  may  it  not  keep  until  Monday?  We  have 
a  litter  of  sucking-pigs,  excellently  choice  and  white,  six 
weeks  old,  come  Friday.  There  be  too  many  for  the  sow, 
and  one  of  them  needeth  roasting.  Think  you  not  it 
would  be  a  pity  to  leave  the  women  to  carve  it?" 

*'  My  son  Jack,"  replied  Master  Stickles,  ''  never  was  I 
in  such  quarters  yet;  and  God  forbid  that  I  should  be  so 
unthankful  to  him  as  to  hurry  away.  And  now  I  think  of 
it,  Friday  is  not  a  day  upon  which  pious  people  love  to 
commence  an  enterprise.  1  will  choose  the  young  pig  to- 
morrow at  noon,  at  which  time  they  are  wont  to  gambol; 
and  we  will  celebrate  his  birthday  by  carving  him  on  Fri- 
day. After  that  we  will  gird  our  loins,  and  set  forth  early 
on  Saturday." 

Now  this  was  little  better  to  me  than  if  we  had  set  forth 
at  once,  Sunday  being  the  very  first  day  upon  which  it 
would  be  honorable  for  me  to  enter  Glen  Doone.  But 
though  I  tried  every  possible  means  with  Master  Jeremy 
Stickles,  offering  him  the  choice  for  dinner  of  every  beast 
that  was  on  the  farm,  he  durst  not  put  off  our  departure 
later  than  the  Saturday.  And  nothing  else  but  love  of  us 
and  of  our  hospitality  would  have  so  persuaded  him  to  re- 
main with  us  till  then.  Therefore  now  my  only  chance  of 
seeing  Lorna  before  I  went  lay  in  watching  from  the  cliff 
and  espying  her,  or  a  signal  from  her. 


182  LORN  A  BOONE. 

This,  however,  I  did  in  vain,  until  my  eyes  were  weary, 
and  often  would  delude  themselves  with  hope  of  what  they 
ached  for.  But  though  I  lay  hidden  behind  the  trees  upon 
the  crest  of  the  stony  fall,  and  waited  so  quiet  that  the  rab- 
bits and  squirrels  played  around  me,  and  even  the  keen- 
eyed  weasel  took  me  for  a  trunk  of  wood — it  was  all  as 
one;  no  c<ist  of  color  changed  the  white  stone,  whose  white- 
ness now  was  hateful  to  me;  nor  did  wreath  or  skirt  of 
maiden  Uveak  the  loneliness  of  the  vale. 


A  SAFE  PASS  FOB  KING'S  MESSENGER.         ia3 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A  SAFE   PASS   FOR   KING's   MESSENGER. 

A  JOURNEY  to  London  seemed  to  us  in  those  by-gone 
days  as  hazardous  and  dark  an  adventure  as  could  be  forced 
on  any  man.  I  mean,  of  course,  a  poor  man;  for  to  a  great 
nobleman  with  ever  so  many  outriders,  attendants,  and 
retainers,  the  risk  was  not  so  great,  unless  the  highway- 
men knew  of  their  coming  beforehand,  and  so  combined 
against  them.  To  a  poor  man,  however,  the  risk  was  not 
so  much  from  those  gentlemen  of  the  road  as  from  the 
more  ignoble  footpads,  and  the  landlords  of  the  lesser 
hostels,  and  the  loose,  unguarded  soldiers,  over  and  above 
the  pitfalls  and  the  quagmires  of  the  way;  so  that  it  was 
hard  to  settle,  at  the  first  outgoing,  whether  a  man  were 
wise  to  pray  more  for  his  neck  or  for  his  head. 

But  nowadays  it  is  very  different.  Not  that  high- 
waymen are  scarce  in  this  the  reign  of  our  good  Queen 
Anne,  for  in  truth  they  thrive  as  well  as  ever,  albeit  they 
deserve  it  not,  being  less  upright  and  courteous — but  that 
the  roads  are  much  improved,  and  the  growing  use  of  stage- 
wagons  (some  of  which  will  travel  as  much  as  forty  miles 
in  a  summer  day)  has  turned  our  ancient  ideas  of  distance 
almost  upside  down;  and  I  doubt  whether  God  be  pleased 
with  our  flying  so  fast  away  from  him.  However,  that  is 
not  my  business;  nor  does  it  lie  in  my  mouth  to  speak  very 
strongly  upon  the  subject,  seeing  how  much  I  myself  have 
done  toward  making  of  roads  upon  Exmoor. 

To  return  to  my  story  (and,  in  truth,  I  lose  that  road 
too  often),  it  would  have  taken  ten  King's  messengers  to 
get  me  away  from  Plover's  Barrows  without  one  good-by 
to  Lorna,  but  for  my  sense  of  the  trust  and  reliance  which 
His  Majesty  had  reposed  in  me.  And  now  I  felt  most 
bitterly  how  the  very  arrangements  which  seemed  so  wise, 
and  indeed  ingenious,  may  by  the  force  of  events  become 


184  LORNA  DOONE. 

our  most  fatal  obstacles.  For  lo!  I 'was  blocked  entirely 
from  going  to  see  Lorna;  whereas  we  should  have  fixed  it 
so  that  I  as  well  might  have  the  power  of  signaling  my 
necessity. 

It  was  too  late  now  to  think  of  that;  and  so  I  made  up 
my  mind  at  last  to  keep  my  honor  on  both  sides,  both  to  the 
King  and  to  the  maiden,  although  I  might  lose  everything 
except  a  heavy  heart  for  it.  And  indeed  more  hearts  than 
mine  were  heavy;  for  when  it  came  to  the  tug  of  parting, 
my  mother  was  like,  and  so  was  Annie,  to  break  down 
altogether.  But  I  bade  them  be  of  good  cheer,  and  smiled 
in  the  briskest  manner  upon  them,  and  said  that  I  should 
be  back  next  week  as  one  of  His  Majesty's  greatest  cap- 
tains, and  told  them  not  to  fear  me  then.  Upon  which 
they  smiled  at  the  idea  of  ever  being  afraid  of  me,  what- 
ever dress  I  might  have  on;  and  so  I  kissed  my  hand  once 
more,  and  rode  away  very  bravely.  But  bless  your  heart, 
I  could  no  more  have  done  so  than  flown  all  the  way  to 
London  if  Jeremy  Stickles  had  not  been  there. 

And  not  to  take  too  much  credit  to  myself  in  this  matter, 
I  must  confess  than  when  we  were  come  to  the  turn  of  the 
road  where  the  moor  begins,  and  whence  you  see  the  last 
of  the  yard,  and  the  ricks  and  the  poultry  round  them,  and 
can  (by  knowing  the  place)  obtain  a  glance  of  the  kitchen 
window  under  the  walnut-tree,  it  went  so  hard  with  me 
just  here  that  I  even  made  pretense  of  a  stone  in  ancient 
Smiler's  shoe,  to  dismount,  and  to  bend  my  head  a  while. 
Then,  knowing  that  those  I  had  left  behind  would  be 
watching  to  see  the  last  of  me,  and  might  have  false  hopes 
of  my  coming  back,  I  mounted  again  with  all  possible 
courage,  and  rode  after  Jeremy  Stickles. 

Jeremy,  seeing  how  much  I  was  down,  did  his  best  to 
keep  me  up  with  jokes  and  tales,  and  light  discourse,  until, 
before  we  had  ridden  a  league,  I  began  to  long  to  see  the 
things  he  was  describing.  The  air,  the  weather,  and  the 
thoughts  of  going  to  a  wondrous  place,  added  to  the  fine 
company — at  least  so  Jeremy  said  it  was — of  a  man  who 
knew  all  London,  made  me  feel  that  I  should  be  ungracious 
not  to  laugh  a  little.  And  being  very  simple,  then,  I 
laughed  no  more  a  little,  but  something  quite  considerable 
(though  free  from  consideration),  at  the  strange  things 
Master  Stickles  told  me,  and  his  strange  way  of  telling 


A  SAFE  PASS  FOR  KING 'S  MESSENGER.         185 

them.  And  so  we  became  very  excellent  friends,  for  he 
was  much  pleased  with  my  laughing. 

Not  wishing  to  thrust  myself  more  forward  than  need 
be  in  this  narrative,  I  have  scarcely  thought  it  becoming  or 
right  tospeakof  my  own  adornments.  But  now,  what  with 
the  brave  clothes  I  had  on,  and  the  better  ones  still  that 
were  packed  up  in  the  bag  behind  the  saddle,  it  is  almost 
beyond  me  to  forbear  saying  that  I  must  have  looked  very 
pleasing.  And  many  a  time  I  wished,  going  along,  that 
Lorna  could  only  be  here  and  there,  watching  behind  a  furze- 
bush,  looking  at  me,  and  wondering  how  much  my  clothes 
had  cost.  For  mother  would  have  no  stint  in  the  matter,  but 
had  assembled  at  our  house,  immediately  upon  knowledge 
of  what  was  to  be  about  London,  every  man  known  to  be 
a  good  stitcher  upon  our  side  of  Ex  moor.  And  for  three 
days  they  had  worked  their  best,  without  stint  of  beer  or 
cider,  according  to  the  constitution  of  each.  The  result,  so 
they  all  declared,  was  such  as  to  create  admiration,  and  defy 
competition  in  London.  And  to  me  it  seemed  that  they 
were  quite  right;  though  Jeremy  Stic4iles  turned  up  his 
nose,  and  feigned  to  be  deaf  in  the  business. 

Now  be  that  matter  as  you  please-  -for  the  point  is  not 
worth  arguing — certain  it  is  that  my  appearance  was  better 
than  it  had  been  before.  For  being  in  the  best  clothes,  one 
tries  to  look  and  to  act  (so  far  as  may  be)  up  to  the  quality 
of  them.  Not  only  for  the  fear  of  soiling  them,  but  that 
they  enlarge  a  man's  perception  of  his  value.  And  it 
strikes  me  that  our  sins  arise,  partly  from  disdain  of  others, 
but  mainly  from  contempt  of  self,  both  working  the  despite 
of  God.  But  men  of  mind  may  not  be  measured  by  such 
paltry  rule  as  this. 

By  dinner-time  we  arrived  at  Porlock,  and  dined  with 
my  old  friend.  Master  Pooke,  now  growing  rich  and  portly. 
For  though  we  had  plenty  of  victuals  with  us,  we  were  not 
to  begin  upon  them  until  all  chance  of  victualing  among 
our  friends  was  left  behind.  And  during  the  first  day  we 
had  no  need  to  meddle  with  our  store  at  all;  for,  as  had 
been  settled  before  we  left  home,  we  lay  that  night  at 
Dunster,  in  the  house  of  a  worthy  tanner,  first  cousin  to 
my  mother,  who  received  us  very  cordially,  and  undertook 
to  return  old  Smiler  to  his  stable  at  PlovePs  Barrows,  after 
one  day's  rest. 


186  LORN  A  DOONE. 

Thence  we  hired  to  Bridge  water;  and  from  Bridge  water 
on  to  Bristowe,  breaking  the  journey  between  the  two. 
But  although  the  whole  way  was  so  new  to  me,  and  such  a 
perpetual  source  of  conflict,  that  the  remembrance  still 
abides  with  me,  as  if  it  were  but  yesterday,  I  must  not  be 
so  long  in  telling  as  it  was  in  traveling,  or  you  will  wish  me 
farther;  both  because  Lorna  was  nothing  there,  and  also 
because  a  man  in  our  neighborhood  hath  done  the  whole  of 
it  since  my  time,  and  feigns  to  think  nothing  of  it.  How- 
ever, one  thing,  in  common  justice  to  a  person  who  has 
been  traduced,  I  am  bound  to  mention.  And  this  is,  that 
being  two  of  us,  and  myself  of  such  magnitude,  we  never 
could  have  made  our  journey  without  either  fight  or  run- 
ning, but  for  the  free  pass  which  dear  Annie,  by  some 
means  (I  know  not  what)  had  procured  from  Master  Fag- 
gus.  And  when  I  let  it  be  known  by  some  hap,  that  I  was 
the  own  cousin  of  Tom  Faggus,  and  honored  with  his 
society,  there  was  not  a  house  upon  the  road  but  was  proud 
to  entertain  me,  in  spite  of  my  fellow-traveler  bearing  the 
red  badge  of  the  King. 

*'  I  will  keep  this  close,  my  son  Jack,*'  he  said,  having 
stripped  it  off  with  a  carving-knife;  ^'your  flag  is  the  best 
to  fly.  The  man  who  starved  me  on  the  way  down,  the 
same  shall  feed  nie  fat  going  home." 

Therefore  we  pursued  our  way  in  excellent  condition, 
having  thriven  upon  the  credit  of  that  very  popular  high- 
wayman, and  being  surrounded  with  regrets  that  he  had 
left  the  profession,  and  sometimes  begged  to  intercede  that 
he  might  help  the  road  again.  For  all  the  landlords  on 
the  road  declared  that  now  small  ale  was  drunk,  nor  much 
of  spirits  called  for,  because  the  farmers  need  not  prime  to 
meet  only  common  riders,  neither  were  these  worth  the 
while  to  get  drunk  with  afterward.  Master  Stickles  him- 
self undertook,  as  an  officer  of  the  King's  justices,  to  plead 
this  case  with  Squire  Faggus  (as  every  body  called  him 
now),  and  to  induce  him,  for  the  general  good,  to  return 
to  his  proper  ministry. 

It  was  a  long  and  Aveary  journey,  although  the  roads  are 
wondrous  good  on  the  farther  side  of  Bristowe,  and  scarcely 
any  man  need  be  bogged,  if  he  keeps  his  eyes  well  open, 
save,  perhaps,  in  Berkshire.  In  consequence  of  the  pass 
we  had,  and  the  vintners'  knowledge  of  it,  we  only  met 


A  SAFE  PASS  FOR  KING 'S  MESSENGEB.         im 

two  public  riders,  one  of  whom  made  oil  straightway  when 
he  saw  my  companion's  pistols  and  the  stout  carbine  I  bore; 
and  the  other  came  to  a  parley  with  us,  and  proved  most 
kind  and  affable,  when  he  knew  himself  in  the  presence  of 
the  cousin  of  Squire  Faggus.  "God  save  you,  gentlemen,"' 
he  cried,  lifting  his  hat  politely;  '^  many  and  many  a  happy 
day  I  have  worked  this  road  with  him.  Such  times  will 
never  be  again.  But  commend  me  to  his  love  and  prayers. 
King  my  name  is,  and  King  my  nature.  Say  that,  and 
none  will  harm  you."  And  so  he  made  off  down  the  hill, 
being  a  perfect  gentleman,  and  a  very  good  horse  he  was 
riding. 

The  night  was  falling  very  thick  by  the  time  we  were 
come  to  Tyburn,  and  here  the  King's  officer  decided  that  it 
would  be  wise  to  halt;  because  the  way  was  unsafe  by  night 
across  the  fields  to  Charing  village.  I  for  my  part  was 
nothing  loath,  and  preferred  to  see  London  by  daylight. 

And  after  all,  it  was  not  worth  seeing,  but  a  very  hide- 
ous and  dirty  place,  not  at  all  like  Exmoor.  Some  of  the 
shops  were  very  fine,  and  the  signs  above  them  finer  still, 
so  tliat  I  was  never  weary  of  standing  still  to  look  at  them. 
But  in  doing  this  there  was  no  ease;  for  before  one  could 
begin  almost  to  make  out  the  meaning  of  them,  either 
some  of  the  wayfarers  would  bustle,  and  scowl,  and  draw 
their  swords,  or  the  owner,  or  his  apprentice-boys,  would 
rush  out  and  catch  hold  of  me,  crying,  "Buy,  buy,  buy! 
What  d'ye  lack,  what  d'ye  lack?  Buy,  buy,  buy!"  At 
first  I  mistook  the  meaning  of  this — for  so  we  pronounce 
the  word  "boy  "  upon  Exmoor — and  I  answered  with  some 
indignation,  "  Sirrah,  I  am  no  boy  now,  but  a  man  of  one- 
and-twenty  years;  and  as  for  lacking,  I  lack  naught  from 
thee,  except  what  thou  hast  not — good  manners." 

The  only  things  that  pleased  me  much  were  the  river 
Thames,  and  the  hall  and  church  of  Westminster,  where 
there  are  brave  things  to  be  seen,  and  braver  still  to  think 
about.  But  whenever  I  wandered  in  the  streets,  what  with 
the  noise  the  people  made,  the  number  of  the  coaches,  the 
running  of  the  footmen,  the  swaggering  of  great  courtiers, 
and  the  thrusting  aside  of  everybody,  many  and  many  a 
time  I  longed  to  be  back  among  the  sheep  again,  for  fear 
of  losing  temper.  They  were  welcome  to  the  wall  for  me, 
as  I  took  care  to  tell  them,  for  I  could  stand  without  the 


188  LORNA  DOONB. 

wall,  which  perhaps  was  more  than  they  could  do.  Though 
I  said  this  with  the  best  intention,  meaning  no  discourtesy, 
some  of  them  were  vexed  at  it;  and  one  young  lord,  being 
flushed  with  drink,  drew  his  sword  and  made  at  me.  But 
I  struck  it  up  with  my  holly  stick,  so  that  it  flew  on  the 
roof  of  a  house;  then  I  took  liim  by  the  belt  with  one  hand, 
and  laid  him  in  the  kennel.  This  caused  some  little  dis- 
turbance; but  none  of  the  rest  saw  fit  to  try  how  the 
matter  might  be  with  them. 

Now  this  being  the  year  of  our  Lord,  1683,  more  than 
nine  years  and  a  half  since  the  death  of  my  father,  and  the 
beginning  of  this  history,  all  London  was  in  a  great  fer- 
ment about  the  dispute  between  the  Court  of  the  King  and 
the  City.  The  King,  or  rather  perhaps  his  party  (for  they 
said  that  His  Majesty  cared  for  little  except  to  have  plenty 
of  money  and  spend  it),  was  quite  resolved  to  be  supreme 
in  the  appointment  of  the  chief  officers  of  the  corporation. 
But  the  citizens  maintained  that  (under  their  charter)  this 
right  lay  entirely  with  themselves;  upon  which  a  writ  was 
issued  against  them  for  forfeiture  of  their  charter;  and  the 
question  was  now  being  tried  in  the  court  of  His  Majesty's 
bench. 

This  seemed  to  occupy  all  the  attention  of  the  judges, 
and  my  case  (which  had  appeared  so  urgent)  was  put  off 
from  time  to  time,  while  the  court  and  the  city  contended. 
And  so  hot  was  the  conflict  and  hate  between  them,  that  a 
sheriff  had  been  fined  by  the  King  in  £100,000,  and  a 
former  lord  mayor  had  even  been  sentenced  to  the  pillory, 
because  he  would  not  swear  falsely.  Hence  the  courtiers 
and  the  citizens  scarce  could  meet  in  the  streets  with 
patience,  or  without  railing  and  frequent  blows. 

Now,  although  I  heard  so  much  of  this  matter,  for 
nothing  else  was  talked  of,  and  it  seemed  to  me  more  im- 
portant even  than  the  church-wardenship  of  Oare,  I  could 
not  for  the  life  of  me  tell  which  side  I  should  take  to.  For 
all  my  sense  of  position,  and  of  confidence  reposed  in  me, 
and  of  my  father's  opinions,  lay  heavily  in  one  scale;  while 
all  my  reftson  and  my  heart  went  down  plump  against  in- 
justice, and  seemed  to  win  the  other  scale.  Even  so  my 
father  had  been,  at  the  breaking  out  of  the  civil  war,  when 
he  was  less  than  my  age  now,  and  even  less  skilled  in 
politics:  and  my  mother  told  me  after  this,  when  she  saw 


A  SAFE  PASS  FOR  KING'S  MESSENOKU.         1S9 

how  I  myself  was  doubting,  and  vexed  with  myself  for 
doing  so,  that  my  father  used  to  thank  God  often  that  he 
had  not  been  called  upon  to  take  one  side  or  other,  but 
might  remain  obscure  and  quiet.  And  yet  he  always  con- 
sidered himself  to  be  a  good  sound  Royalist. 

But  now  as  I  stayed  there,  only  desirous  to  be  heard  and 
to  get  away,  and  scarcely  even  guessing  yet  what  was  wanted 
of  me  (for  even  Jeremy  Stickles  knew  not,  or  pretended 
not  to  know),  things  came  to  a  dreadful  pass  between  the 
King  and  all  the  people  who  dared  to  have  an  opinion. 
For  about  the  middle  of  June,  the  judges  gave  their  sen- 
tence, that  the  City  of  London  had  forfeited  its  charter, 
and  that  its  franchise  should  be  taken  into  the  hands  of  the 
King.  Scarcely  was  this  judgment  forth,  and  all  men 
hotly  talking  of  it,  when  a  far  worse  thing  befell.  News 
of  some  great  conspiracy  was  spread  at  every  corner,  and 
that  a  man  in  the  malting  business  had  tried  to  take  up 
the  brewer's  work,  and  lop  the  King  and  the  Duke  of 
York.  Everybody  was  shocked  at  this,  for  the  King  him- 
self was  not  disliked  so  much  as  his  advisers;  but  every- 
body was  more  than  shocked,  grieved  indeed  to  the  heart 
with  pain,  at  hearing  that  Lord  William  Russell  and  Mr. 
Algernon  Sidney  had  been  seized  and  sent  to  the  Tower  of 
London  upon  a  cliarge  of  high  treason. 

Having  no  knowledge  of  these  great  men,  nor  of  the 
matter  how  far  it  \/as  true,  I  had  not  very  much  to  say 
about  either  them  or  it;  but  this  silence  was  not  shared 
(although  the  ignorance  may  have  been)  by  the  hundreds 
of  people  around  me.  Such  a  commotion  was  astir,  such 
universal  sense  of  wrong,  and  stern  resolve  to  right  it,  that 
each  man  grasped  his  fellow's  hand,  and  led  him  into  the 
vintner^s.  Even  I,  although  at  that  time  given  to  excess 
in  temperance,  and  afraid  of  the  name  of  cordials,  was 
hard  set  (I  do  assure  you)  not  to  be  drunk  at  intervals, 
without  coarse  discourtesy. 

However  that  (as  Betty  Muxworthy  used  to  say,  w.hen 
argued  down  and  ready  to  take  the  mop  for  it)  is  neither 
here  nor  there.  I  have  naught  to  do  with  great  history, 
and  am  sorry  for  those  who  have  to  write  it;  because  they 
are  sure  to  have  both  friends  and  enemies  in  it,  and 
cannot  act  as  they  would  toward  them,  without  damage  to 
their  own  consciences. 


190  LORNA  DOONE, 

But  as  great  events  draw  little  ones,  and  the  rattle  of 
the  churn  decides  the  uncertainty  of  the  flies,  so  this 
movement  of  the  town,  and  eloquence,  and  passion  had 
more  than  I  guessed  at  the  time  to  do  with  my  own  little 
fortunes.  For  in  the  first  place  it  was  fixed  (perhaps  from 
downright  contumely,  because  the  citizens  loved  him  so) 
that  Lord  Russell  should  be  tried  neither  at  Westminster 
nor  at  Lincoln's  Inn,  but  at  the  Court  of  Old  Bailey, 
within  the  precincts  of  the  city.  This  kept  me  hanging 
on  much  longer;  because  although  the  good  nobleman  was 
to  be  tried  by  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas,  yet  the  officers 
of  the  King's  Bench,  to  whom  I  daily  applied  myself,  were 
in  counsel  with  their  fellows,  and  put  me  off  from  day  to 
day. 

Now,  I  had  heard  of  the  law's  delays,  which  the  greatest 
of  all  great  poets  (knowing  much  of  the  law  himself,  as 
indeed  of  everything)  has  specially  mentioned,  when  not 
expected,  among  the  many  ills  of  life.  But  I  never 
thought  at  my  years  to  have  such  bitter  experience  of  the 
evil;  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  if  the  lawyers  failed  to  do 
their  duty,  they  ought  to  pay  people  for  waiting  upon 
them,  instead  of  making  them  pay  for  it.  But  here  I  was, 
now  in  the  second  month,  living  at  my  own  charges,  in 
the  house  of  a  worthy  fell-monger  at  the  sign  of  the  Seal 
and  Squirrel,  abutting  upon  the  Strand  road  which  leads 
from  GDemple  Bar  to  Charing.  Here  I  did  very  well  in- 
deed, having  a  mattress  of  good  skin-dressings,  and  plenty 
to  eat  every  day  of  my  life,  but  the  butter  was  something 
to  cry  ^^but"  thrice  at  (according  to  a  conceit  of  our 
school-days)  and  the  milk  must  have  come  from  cows 
driven  to  water.  However  these  evils  were  light  compared 
with  the  heavy  bill  sent  up  to  me  every  Saturday  after- 
noon; and  knowing  how  my  mother  had  pinched  to  send 
me  nobly  to  London,  and  had  told  me  to  spare  for  nothing, 
but  live  bravely  with  the  best  of  them,  the  tears  very 
nearly  came  into  my  eyes,  as  I  thought,  while  I  ate,  of  so 
robbing  her. 

At  length,  being  quite  at  the  end  of  my  money,  and 
seeing  no  other  help  for  it,  I  determined  to  listen  to  clerks 
no  more,  but  force  my  way  up  to  the  Justices,  and  insist 
upon  being  heard  by  them,  or  discharged  from  my  recog- 
nizance.    For  so  they  had  termed  the  bond  or  deed  which 


A  SAFE  PASS  FOR  KING'S  MESSENOER.         191 

I  had  been  forced  to  execute,  in  the  presence  of  a  chief 
clerk  or  notary,  the  very  day  after  I  came  to  London. 
And  the  purport  of  it  was,  that  on  pain  of  a  heavy  fine  or 
escheatment,  I  would  hold  myself  ready  and  present,  to 
give  evidence  when  called  upon.  Having  delivered  me  up 
to  sign  this,  Jeremy  Stickles  was  quit  of  me,  and  went 
upon  other  business,  not  but  what  he  was  kind  and  good 
to  me  when  his  time  and  pursuits  allowed  of  it. 


192  LORNA  BOONE, 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

A  GREAT  MAK   ATTENDS  TO   BUSINESS. 

Having  seen  Lord  Russell  murdered  in  the  fields  of 
Lincoln^s  Inn,  or  rather  having  gone  to  see  it,  but  turned 
away  with  a  sickness  and  a  bitter  flood  of  tears — for  a 
whiter  or  nobler  neck  never  fell  before  low  beasts — I 
strode  away  toward  Westminister,  cured  of  half  my  indig- 
nation at  the  death  of  Charles  the  First.  Many  people 
hurried  past  me,  chiefly  of  the  more  tender  sort,  revolting 
at  the  butchery.  In  their  ghastly  faces,  as  they  turned 
them  back,  lest  the  sight  should  be  coming  after  them, 
great  sorrow  was  to  be  seen,  and  horror,  and  pity,  and 
some  anger. 

In  Westminster  Hall  I  found  nobody;  not  even  the 
crowd  of  crawling  varlets,  who  used  to  be  craving  ever- 
more for  employment  or  for  payment.  I  knocked  at  three 
doors,  one  after  other,  of  lobbies  going  out  of  it,  where  I 
hftd  formerly  seen  some  officers  and  people  pressing  in  and 
out;  but  for  my  trouble  I  took  nothing,  except  some 
thumps  from  echo.  And  at  last  an  old  man  told  me  that 
all  the  lawyers  were  gone  to  see  the  result  of  their  own 
works  in  the  fields  of  Lincoln's  Inn. 

However,  in  a  few  days'  time  I  had  better  fortune;  for 
the  court  was  sitting  and  full  of  business,  to  clear  off  the 
arrears  of  work  before  the  lawyers'  holiday.  As  I  was 
waiting  in  the  hall  for  a  good  occasion,  a  man  with  horse- 
hair on  his  head,  and  a  long  blue  bag  in  his  left  hand, 
touched  me  gently  on  the  arm,  and  led  me  into  a  quiet 
place.  I  followed  him  very  gladly,  being  confident  that 
he  came  to  me  with  a  message  from  the  Justiciaries.  But 
after  taking  pains  to  be  sure  that  none  could  overhear  us, 
he  turned  on  me  suddenly,  and  asked:  * 

"  Now,  John,  how  is  your  dear  mother?" 

**  Worshipful  sir,"  I  answered  him,  after  recovering  from 


A  QUE  AT  MAN  ATTENDS  TO  BUSINESS.         193 

my  surprise  at  his  knowledge  of  our  affairs,  and  kindly 
interest  in  them,  '*  it  is  two  months  now  since  I  have  seen 
her.  Would  to  God  that  I  only  knew  how  she  is  faring 
now,  and  how  the  business  of  the  farm  goes!" 

*^Sir,  I  respect  and  admire  you,"  the  old  gentleman 
replied,  with  a  bow  very  low  and  genteel;  "few  young 
court-gallants  of  our  time  are  so  reverent  and  dutiful.  Oh, 
how  I  did  love  my  mother!"  Here  he  turned  up  his  eyes 
to  heaven  in  a  manner  that  made  me  feel  for  him,  and  yet 
with  a  kind  of  wonder. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  you,  sir,"  I  answered  most  respect- 
fully, not  meaning  to  trespass  on  his  grief,  yet  wondering 
at  his  mother's  age;  for  he  seemed  to  be  at  least  three- 
score: "but  I  am  no  court-gallant,  sir;  I  am  only  a 
farmer's  son,  and  learning  how  to  farm  a  little." 

"Enough,  John;  quite  enough,"  he  cried;  "  I  can  read 
it  in  thy  countenance.  Honesty  is  written  there,  and 
courage,  and  simplicity.  But  I  fear  that,  in  this  town  of 
London,  thou  art  apt  to  be  taken  in  by  people  of  no  prin- 
ciple. Ah  me!  ah  me!  The  world  is  bad,  and  I  am  too 
old  to  improve  it." 

Then  finding  him  so  good  and  kind,  and  anxious  to  im- 
prove the  age,  I  told  him  almost  everything;  how  much  I 
paid  the  fell-monger,  and  all  the  things  I  had  been  to  see; 
and  how  I  longed  to  get  away  before  the  corn  was  ripening; 
yet  how  (in  spite  of  these  desires)  I  felt  myself  bound  to 
walk  up  and  down,  being  under  a  thing  called  "  recogni- 
zance." In  short,  I  told  him  everything;  except  the  nature 
of  my  summons  (which  I  had  no  right  to  tell),  and  that  I 
was  out  of  money. 

My  tale  was  told  in  a  little  archway,  apart  from  other 
lawyers;  and  the  other  lawyers  seemed  to  me  to  shift  them- 
selves, and  to  look  askew,  like  sheep  through  a  hurdle, 
when  the  rest  are  feeding. 

"What!  Good  God!"  my  lawyer  cried,  smiting  his 
breast  indignantly  with  a  roll  of  something  learned;  "in 
what  country  do  we  live?  Under  what  laws  are  we  gov- 
erned? No  case  before  the  court  whatever;  no  primary 
deposition,  so  far  as  we  are  furnished;  not  even  a  King's 
writ  issued — and  here  we  have  a  fine  young  man  dragged 
from  his  home  and  adoring  mother,  during  the  height  of 
agriculture,  at  his  own  cost  and  charges!    I  have  heard  of 


194  LORNA  BOONS), 

many  grievances;  but  this  the  very  worst  of  all.  Nothing 
short  of  a  Royal  Commission  could  be  warranty  for  it. 
This  is  not  only  illegal,  sir,  but  most  gravely  unconstitu- 
tional." 

'*  I  had  not  told  you,  worthy  sir,"  I  answered  him,  in  a 
lower  tone,  **  if  I  could  have  thought  that  your  sense  of 
right  would  be  moved  so  painfully.  But  now  1  must  beg 
to  leave  you,  sir,  for  I  see  that  tlie  door  again  is  open.  I 
beg  you,  worshipful  sir,  to  accept " 

Upon  this  he  put  forth  his  hand  and  said,  *^  Nay,  nay, 
my  son,  not  two,  not  two; "  yet  looking  away,  that  he 
might  not  scare  me. 

^'  To  accept,  kind  sir,  my  very  best  thanks,  and  most  re- 
spectful remembrances."  And  with  that  I  laid  my  hand 
in  his.  "And  if,  sir,  any  circumstances  of  business  or  of 
pleasure  should  bring  you  to  our  part  of  the  world,  I  trust 
you  will  not  forget  that  my  mother  and  myself  (if  ever  I 
get  home  again)  will  do  our  best  to  make  you  comfortable 
with  our  poor  hospitality." 

With  this  I  was  hasting  away  from  him,  but  he  held  my 
hand  and  looked  round  at  me.  And  he  spoke  without 
cordiality. 

**  Young  man,  a  general  invitation  is  no  entry  for  my 
fee-book.  1  have  spent  a  good  hour  of  business-time  in 
mastering  thy  case,  and  stating  my  opinion  of  it.  And 
being  a  member  of  the  bar,  called  six-and-thirty  years 
agone  by  the  honorable  society  of  the  Inner  Temple,  my 
fee  is  at  my  own  discretion;  albeit  an  honorarium.  For 
the  honor  of  the  profession,  and  my  position  in  it,  I  ought 
to  charge  thee  at  least  five  guineas,  although  I  would  have 
accepted  one,  offered  with  good-will  and  delicacy.  Now  I 
will  enter  it  two,  my  son,  and  half  a  crown  for  my  clerk's 
fee." 

Saying  this,  he  drew  forth  from  his  deep,  blue  bag  a  red 
book  having  clasps  to  it,  and  indorsed  in  gold  letters  *^  Fee- 
book;"  and  before  I  could  speak  (being  frightened  so)  he 
had  entered  on  a  page  of  it,  **  To  consideration  of  case  as 
stated  by  John  Ridd,  and  advising  thereupon,  two  guineas." 

"  But,  sir,  good  sir,"  I  stammered  forth,  not  having  two 
guineas  left  in  the  world,  yet  grieving  to  confess  it,  "I 
knew  not  that  I  was  to  pay,  learned  sir.  I  never  thought 
of  it  in  that  way." 


A  GREAT  MAN  ATTENDS  TO  BUSINESS.         195 


(( 


Wounds  of  God!  In  what  way  thought  you  that  a 
lawyer  listened  to  your  rigmarole?" 

"I  thought  that  you  listened  from  kindness,  sir,  and 
compassion  of  my  grievous  case,  and  a  sort  of  liking 
for  me." 

**A  lawyer  like  thee,  young  curmudgeon!  A  lawyer 
afford  to  feel  compassion  gratis!  Either  thou  art  a  very 
deep  knave,  or  the  greenest  of  all  greenhorns.  Well,  I 
suppose  I  must  let  thee  off  for  one  guinea,  and  the  clerk's 
fee.     A  bad  business,  a  shocking  business!" 

Now,  if  this  man  had  continued  kind  and  soft,  as  when 
he  heard  my  story,  I  would  have  pawned  my  clothes  to  pay 
him,  rather  than  leave  a  debt  behind,  although  contracted 
unwittingly.  But  when  he  used  harsh  language  so, 
I  knowing  that  I  did  not  deserve  it,  began  to  doubt  within 
myself  whether  he  deserved  my  money.  Therefore,  I 
answered  him  with  some  readiness,  such  as  comes  sometimes 
to  me,  although  I  am  so  slow. 

''  Sir,  I  am  no  curmudgeon:  if  a  young  man  had  called 
me  so,  it  would  not  have  been  well  with  him.  This  money 
shall  be  paid,  if  due,  albeit  I  had  no  desire  to  incur  the 
debt.  You  have  advised  me  that  the  Court  is  liable  for 
my  expenses,  so  far  as  they  be  reasonable.  If  this  be  a 
reasonable  expense,  come  with  me  now  to  Lord-justice 
Jeffreys,  and  receive  from  him  the  two  guineas,  or  (it  may 
be)  five,  for  the  counsel  you  have  given  me  to  deny  his  ju- 
risdiction." With  these  words,  I  took  his  arm  to  lead  him, 
for  the  door  was  open  still. 

*'  In  the  name  of  God,  boy,  let  me  go.  Worthy  sir,  pray 
let  me  go.  My  wife  is  sick,  and  my  daughter  dying — in 
the  name  of  God,  sir,  let  me  go." 

*'  Nay,  nay,"  I  said,  having  fast  hold  of  him;  "I  cannot 
let  thee  go  unpaid,  sir.  Eight  is  right;  and  thou  shalt 
have  it." 

"  Ruin  is  what  I  shall  have,  boy,  if  you  drag  me  before 
that  devil.  He  will  strike  me  from  the  bar  at  once,  and 
starve  me,  and  all  my  family.  Here,  lad,  good  lad,  take 
these  two  guineas.  Thou  hast  despoiled  the  spoiler. 
Kever  again  will  I  trust  mine  eyes  for  knowledge  of  a 
greenhorn." 

He  slipped  two  guineas  into  the  hand  which  I  had 
hooked  through  his  elbow,  and  spoke  in  an  urgent  whisper 


196  LORNA  DOONE, 

again,  for  the  people  came  crowding  around  us — "  For 
God's  sake,  let  me  go,  boy;  another  moment  will  be  too 
late." 

"Learned  sir,"  I  answered  him,  "twice  you  spoke, 
unless  I  err,  of  the  necessity  of  a  clerk's  fee,  as  a  thing  to 
be  lamented." 

"  To  be  sure,  to  be  sure,  my  son.  You  have  a  clerk  as 
much  as  I  have.  There  it  is.  Now,  I  pray  thee,  take  to 
the  study  of  the  law.  Possession  is  nine  points  of  it, 
which  thou  hast  of  me.  Self-possession  is  the  tenth,  and 
that  thou  hast  more  than  the  other  nine." 

Being  flattered  by  this,  and  by  the  feeling  of  the  two 
guineas  and  half-crown,  I  dropped  my  hold  upon  Counselor 
Kitch  (for  he  was  no  less  a  man  than  that),  and  he  was 
out  of  sight  in  a  second  of  time,  wig,  blue  bag,  and 
family.  And  before  I  had  time  to  make  up  my  mind  what 
I  should  do  with  his  money  (for  of  course  I  meant  not  to 
keep  it),  the  crier  of  the  Court  (as  they  told  me)  came 
out,  and  wanted  to  know  who  I  was.  I  told  him,  as 
shortly  as  I  could,  that  my  business  lay  with  His  Majesty's 
bench,  and  was  very  confidential;  upon  which  he  took  me 
inside  with  warning,  and  showed  me  to  an  under-clerk, 
who  showed  me  to  a  higher  one,  and  the  higher  clerk  to 
tlie  head  one. 

When  this  gentleman  understood  all  about  my  business 
(which  I  told  him  without  complaint)  he  frowned  at  me 
very  heavily,  as  if  I  had  done  him  an  injury. 

"John  Ridd,"  he  asked  me,  with  a  stern  glance,  "is  it 
your  deliberate  desire  to  be  brought  into  the  presence  of 
the  Lord  Chief -justice?" 

"Surely,  sir,  it  has  been  my  desire  for  the  last  two 
months  and  more." 

"  Then,  John,  thou  shalt  be.  But  mind  one  thing,  not 
a  word  of  thy  long  detention,  or  thou  mayest  get  into 
trouble." 

"  How,  sir?  For  being  detained  against  my  own  wish?" 
I  asked  him;  but  he  turned  away,  as  if  that  matter  were 
not  worth  his  arguing,  as  indeed  I  suppose  it  was  not,  and 
led  me  through  a  little  passage  to  a  door  with  a  curtain 
across  it. 

"Now,  if  my  lord  cross-question  you,"  the  gentleman 
whispered  to  me,   "answer  him  straight  out  truth  at  once. 


A  GREAT  MAN  ATTENDS  TO  BUSINESS,         197 

for  he  will  have  it  out  of  thee.  And  mind,  he  loves  not 
to  be  contradicted,  neither  can  he  bear  a  hang-dog  look. 
Take  little  heed  of  the  other  two;  but  note  every  word  of 
the  middle  one,  and  never  make  him  speak  twice." 

I  thanked  him  for  his  good  advice,  as  he  moved  the  cur- 
tain and  thrust  me  in;  but  instead  of  entering,  withdrew, 
and  left  me  to  bear  the  brunt  of  it. 

The  chamber  was  not  very  large,  though  lofty  to  my 
e3^es,  and  dark,  with  wooden  panels  round  it.  At  the 
farther  end  were  some  raised  seats,  such  as  I  have  seen  in 
churches,  lined  with  velvet,  and  having  broad  elbows,  and 
a  canopy  over  the  middle  seat.  There  were  only  three 
men  sitting  here,  one  in  the  center,  and  one  on  each  side; 
and  all  three  were  done  up  wonderfully  with  fur,  and 
robes  of  state,  and  curls  of  thick  gray  horse-hair,  crimped 
and  gathered,  and  plaited  down  to  their  shoulders.  Each 
man  had  an  oak  desk  before  him,  set  at  a  little  distance, 
and  spread  with  pens  and  papers.  Instead  of  writing, 
however,  they  seemed  to  be  laughing  and  talking,  or 
rather  the  one  in  the  middle  seemed  to  be  telling  some 
good  story,  which  the  others  received  with  approval.  By 
reason  of  their  great  perukes,  it  was  hard  to  tell  how  old 
they  were;  but  the  one  who  was  speaking  seemed  the 
youngest,  although  he  was  the  chief  of  them.  A  thick-set, 
burly,  and  bulky  man,  with  a  blotchy  broad  face,  and 
great  square  jaws,  and  fierce  eyes  full  of  blazes;  he  was  one 
to  be  dreaded  by  gentle  souls,  and  to  be  abhorred  by  the 
noble. 

Between  me  and  the  three  lord  judges,  some  few  lawyers 
were  gathering  up  bags  and  papers  and  pens  and  so  forth, 
from  a  narrow  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room;  as  if  a 
case  had  been  disposed  of,  and  no  other  were  called  on. 
But  before  I  had  time  to  look  round  twice,  the  stout, 
fierce  man  espied  me,  and  shouted  out,  with  a  flashing 
stare: 

"  How  now,  countryman,  who  art  thou?*' 

*'  May  it  please  your  worship,"  I  answered  him,  loudly, 
*'  I  am  John  Ridd,  of  Oare  parish,  in  the  shire  of  Somerset, 
brought  to  this  London  some  two  months  back  by  a  special 
messenger,  whose  name  is  Jeremy  Stickles;  and  then 
bound  over  to  be  on  hand  and  ready,  when  called  upon  to 
give  evidence,  in  a  matter  unknown  to  me,  but  touching 


198  LORNA  DOONK 

the  peace  of  our  lord  the  King,  and  the  well-being  of  his 
subjects.  Three  times  I  have  met  our  lord  the  King,  but 
he  hath  said  nothing  about  his  peace,  and  only  held  it 
toward  me;  and  every  day  save  Sunday,  I  have  walked 
up  and  down  the  great  hall  of  Westminster,  all  the  busi- 
ness part  of  the  day,  expecting  to  be  called  upon;  yet  no 
one  hath  called  upon  me.  And  now  I  desire  to  ask  your 
worship  whether  I  may  go  home  again.'' 

'^  Well  done,  John,"  replied  his  lordship,  while  I  was 
panting  with  all  this  speech;  *'  I  will  go  bail  for  thee,  John, 
thou  hast  never  made  such  a  long  speech  before;  and  thou 
art  a  spunky  Briton,  or  thou  could  not  have  made  it  now. 
I  remember  the  matter  well;  and  I  myself  will  attend  to  it, 
although  it  arose  before  my  time'' — he  was  but  newly 
Chief -Justice — '*  but  I  cannot  take  it  now,  John.  There 
is  no  fear  of  losing  thee,  John,  any  more  than  the  Tower 
of  London.  I  grieve  for  His  Majesty's  exchequer,  after 
keeping  thee  two  months  or  more. " 

"  Nay,  my  lord,  I  crave  your  pardon.  My  mother  hath 
been  keeping  me.     Not  a  groat  have  I  received." 

'^  Spank,  is  it  so?"  his  lordship  cried,  in  a  voice  that 
shook  the  cobwebs,  and  the  frown  on  his  brow  shook  the 
hearts  of  men,  and  mine  as  much  as  the  rest  of  them — 
*'  Spank,  is  His  Majesty  come  to  this,  that  he  starves  his 
own  approvers?" 

'*  My  lord,  my  lord,"  whispered  Mr.  Spank,  the  chief- 
officer  of  evidence,  ''the  thing  hath  been  overlooked,  my 
lord,  among  such  grave  matters  of  treason." 

"  I  will  overlook  thy  head,  foul  Spank,  on  a  spike  from 
Temple  Bar,  if  ever  I  hear  of  the  like  again.  Vile  varlet, 
what  art  thou  paid  for?  Thou  hast  swindled  the  money 
thyself,  foul  Spank;  I  know  thee,  though  thou  art  new  to 
me.  Bitter  is  the  day  for  thee  that  ever  I  came  across 
thee.  Answer  me  not — one  word  more,  and  I  will  have 
thee  on  a  hurdle."  And  he  swung  himself  to  and  fro  on 
his  bench,  with  both  hands  on  his  knees;  and  every  man 
waited  to  let  it  pass,  knowing  better  than  to  speak  to  him. 

"John  Kidd,"  said  the  Lord  Chief-justice,  at  last, 
recovering  a  sort  of  dignity,  yet  daring  Spank  from  the 
corners  of  his  eyes  to  do  so  much  as  look  at  him,  "  thou 
hast  been  shamefully  used,  John  Ridd.  Answer  me  not, 
boy;  not  a  word;  but  go  to  Master  Spank,  and  let  me  know 


A  GREAT  MAN  ATTENDS  TO  BUSINESS.         199 

how  he  behaves  to  tuee;"  here  he  made  a  glance  at  Spank, 
which  was  worth  at  least  ten  pounds  to  me;  "  be  thou  here 
again  to-morrow;  a:ad  before  any  other  case  is  taken,  I  will 
see  justice  done  to  thee.  Now  be  off,  boy;  thy  name  is 
Ridd;  and  we  are  well  rid  of  thee/' 

I  was  only  too  glad  to  go,  after  all  this  tempest,  as  you  may 
well  suppose.  For  if  over  I  saw  a  man's  eyes  become  two 
holes  for  the  devil  to  glare  from,  I  saw  it  that  day;  and  the 
eyes  were  those  of  the  Lord  Chief-justice  Jeffreys. 

Mr.  Spank  was  in  the  lobby  before  me,  and  before  I  had 
recovered  myself — for  I  was  vexed  with  my  own  terror — he 
came  up  sideling  and  fawning  to  me,  with  a  heavy  bag  of 
yellow  leather. 

"  Good  Master  Ridd,  take  it  all,  take  it  all,  and  say  a  good 
word  for  me  to  his  lordship.  He  hath  taken  a  strange 
fancy  to  thee;  and  thou  must  make  the  most  of  it.  We 
never  saw  man  meet  him  eye  to  eye  so,  and  yet  not  con- 
tradict him;  and  that  is  just  what  he  loveth.  Abide  in 
London,  Master  Ridd,  and  he  will  make  thy  fortune.  His 
Joke  upon  thy  name  proves  that.  And  I  pray  you  remem- 
oer.  Master  Ridd,  that  the  Spanks  are  sixteen  in  family." 

But  I  would  not  take  the  bag  from  him,  regarding  it  as 
a  sort  of  bribe  to  pay  me  such  a  lump  of  money,  without 
60  much  as  asking  how  great  had  been  my  expenses. 
Therefore  I  only  told  him  that  if  he  would  kindly  keep  the 
cash  for  me  until  the  morrow,  I  would  spend  the  rest  of 
the  day  in  counting  (which  always  is  sore  work  with  me) 
how  much  it  had  stood  me  in  board  and  lodging  since 
Master  Stickles  had  rendered  me  up;  for  until  that  time 
he  had  borne  my  expenses.  In  the  morning  I  would  give 
Mr.  Spank  a  memorandum,  duly  signed,  and  attested  by 
my  landlord,  including  the  breakfast  of  that  day,  and  in 
exchange  for  this  I  would  take  the  exact  amount  from  the 
yellow  bag,  and  be  very  thankful  for  it. 

**If  that  is  thy  way  of  using  opportunity,"  said  Spank, 
looking  at  me  with  some  contempt,  ^'  thou  wilt  never  thrive 
in  these  times,  my  lad.  Even  the  Lord  Chief -justice  can 
be  little  help  to  tliee;  unless  thou  knowest  better  than  that 
how  to  help  thyself." 

It  mattered  not  to  me.  The  word  "  approver  "  stuck  in 
my  gorge,  as  used  by  the  Lord  Chief-justice;  for  he  looked 
upon  an  approver  as  a  very  low  thing  indeed.     I  would 


200  LORNA  DOONE, 

rather  pay  for  every  breakfast,  and  even  every  dinner, 
eaten  by  me  since  here  I  came,  than  take  money  as  an 
approver.  And  indeed  I  was  much  disappointed  at  being 
taken  in  that  light,  having  understood  that  I  was  sent  for 
as  a  trusty  subject,  and  humble  friend  of  His  Majesty. 

In  the  morning  I  met  Mr.  Spank  waiting  for  me  at  the 
entrance,  and  very  desirous  to  see  me.  I  showed  him  my 
bill,  made  out  in  fair  copy,  and  he  laughed  at  it,  and  said, 
*'Take  it  twice  over.  Master  Ridd;  once  for  thine  own 
sake,  and  once  for  His  Majesty's;  as  all  his  loyal  tradesmen 
do,  when  they  can  get  any.  His  Majesty  knows  and  is 
proud  of  it,  for  it  shows  their  love  of  his  countenance;  and 
he  says  '  Bis  dat  qui  cito  dat,'  ^  Then  how  can  I  grumble 
at  giving  twice,  when  I  give  so  slowly?''^ 

**^Nay,  I  will  take  it  but  once,''''  I  said;  'Mf  His  Majesty 
loves  to  be  robbed,  he  need  not  lack  of  his  desire  while  the 
Spanks  are  sixteen  in  family. '^ 

The  clerk  smiled  cheerfully  at  this,  being  proud  of  his 
children's  ability;  and  then,  having  paid  my  account,  he 
whispered  : 

**  He  is  all  alone  this  morning,  John,  and  in  rare  good 
humor.  He  hath  been  promised  the  handling  of  poor 
Master  Algernon  Sidney,  and  he  says  he  will  soon  make 
republic  of  him;  for  his  state  shall  shortly  be  headless. 
He  is  chuckling  over  his  joke,  like  a  pig  with  a  nut;  and 
that  always  makes  him  pleasant.  John  Ridd,  my  lord !" 
With  that  he  swung  up  the  curtain  bravely;  and  according 
to  special  orders,  I  stood  face  to  face  and  alone  with 
Judge  Jeffreys. 


JOHN  IS  DUAIMED  AND  CAST  ASIDE.  201 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

JOHN  IS  DRAINED  AND  CAST  ASIDE. 

His  lordship  was  busy  with  some  letters,  and  did  not 
look  up  for  a  minute  or  two,  although  he  knew  that  I. was 
there.  Meanwhile  I  stood  waiting  to  make  my  bow,  afraid 
to  begin  upon  him,  and  wondering  at  his  great  bull-head. 
Then  he  closed  his  letters,  well  pleased  with  their  import, 
and  fixed  his  bold  broad  stare  on  me,  as  if  I  were  an  oyster 
opened,  and  he  would  know  how  fresh  I  was. 

''May  it  please  your  worship,"  I  said,  "here  I  am 
according  to  order,  awaiting  your  good  pleasure." 

"Thou  art  made  to  weight,  John,  more  than  order. 
How  much  dost  thou  tip  the  scales  to?" 

**Only  twelve-score  pounds,  ray  lord,  when  I  be  in 
wrestling  trim.  And  sure  I  must  have  lost  weight  here, 
fretting  so  long  in  London." 

''  Ha,  ha!  Much  fret  is  there  in  thee!  Hath  His 
Majesty  seen  thee?" 

**  Yes,  my  lord,  twice  or  even  thrice;  and  he  made  some 
jest  concerning  me." 

"  A  very  bad  one,  I  doubt  not.  His  humor  is  not  so 
dainty  as  mine,  but  apt  to  be  coarse  and  unmannerly. 
Now,  John,  or  Jack,  by  the  look  of  thee,  thou  art  more 
used  to  be  called." 

*'  Yes,  your  worship,  when  I  am  with  old  Molly  and 
Betty  Muxworthy." 

**  Peace,  thou,  forward  varlet!  There  is  a  deal  too  much 
of  thee.  We  shall  have  to  try  short  commons  with  thee, 
and  thou  art  a  very  long  common.  Ha,  ha!  Where  is 
that  rogue  Spank?  Spank  must  hear  that  by-and-by. 
It  is  beyond  thy  great  thick  head.  Jack." 

"  Not  so,  my  lord;  I  have  been  at  school,  and  had  very 
bad  jokes  made  upon  me." 

**  Ha,  ha!    It  hath  hit  thee  hard.    And  faith,  it  would 


202  LORNA  BOONE. 

be  hard  to  miss  thee,  even  with  harpoon.  And  thou  look- 
est  like  to  bhibber,  now.  Capital,  in  faith!  I  have  thee 
on  every  side,  Jack,  and  thy  sides  are  manifold;  many- 
folded  at  any  rate.  Thou  shalt  have  double  expenses, 
Jack,  for  the  wit  thou  hast  provoked  in  me." 

"Heavy  goods  lack  heavy  payment,  is  a  proverb  down 
our  way,  my  lord." 

''Ah,  I  hurt  thee,  I  hurt  thee.  Jack.  The  harpoon 
hath  no  tickle  for  thee.  Now,  Jack  Whale,  having  hauled 
thee  hard,  we  will  proceed  to  examine  thee.''  Here  all  his 
manner  was  changed,  and  he  looked  with  his  heavy  brows 
bent  upon  me,  as  if  he  had  never  laughed  in  his  life,  and 
would  allow  none  else  to  do  so. 

**I  am  ready  to  answer  my  lord,"  I  replied,  "if  he  asks 
me  naught  beyond  my  knowledge,  or  beyond  my  honor." 

"  Hadst  better  answer  me  everything,  lump.  What  hast 
thou  to  do  with  honor?  Now,  is  there  in  thy  neighbor- 
hood a  certain  nest  of  robbers,  miscreants,  and  outlaws, 
whom  all  men  fear  to  handle?" 

"  Yes,  my  lord.  At  least  I  believe  some  of  them  be 
robbers;  and  all  of  them  are  outlaws." 

"  And  what  is  your  high-sheriff  about,  that  he  doth  not 
hang  them  all?  Or  send  them  up  for  me  to  hang,  without 
more  to  do  about  them?" 

"I  reckon  that  he  is  afraid,  my  lord;  it  is  not  safe  to 
meddle  with  them.  They  are  of  good  birth,  and  reckless, 
and  their  place  is  very  strong." 

"Good  birth!  What  was  Lord  Russell  of.  Lord  Essex, 
and  this  Sidney?  'Tis  the  surest  heirship  to  the  block  to 
be  the  chip  of  an  old  one.  What  is  the  name  of  this  pesti- 
lent race,  and  how  many  of  them  are  there?" 

"They  are  the  Doones  of  Bagworthy  forest,  may  it 
please  your  worship.  And  we  reckon  there  be  about  forty 
of  them,  besides  the  women  and  children." 

"  Forty  Doones,  all  forty  thieves!  and  women  and 
gliildren!  Thunder  of  God!  How  long  have  they  been 
there,  then?" 

"  They  may  have  been  there  thirty  years,  my  lord;  and, 
indeed,  they  may  have  been  forty.  Before  the  great  war 
broke  out  they  came,  longer  back  than  I  can  remember." 

"Ay,  long  before  thou  wast  born,  John.  Good,  thou 
epeakest  plainly.     Woe  betide  a  liar,  whenso  I  get  hold  of 


JOHN  18  BHATNED  AND  CAST  ASIDE,  203 

him.  Ye  want  me  on  the  Western  Circuit;  by  God,  and 
ye  shall  liave  me,  when  London  traitors  are  spun  and 
swung.  There  is  a  family  called  De  Whichehalse  living 
very  nigh  thee,  John?" 

This  he  said  in  a  sudden  manner,  as  if  to  take  me  off  my 
guard,  and  fixed  his  great  thick  eyes  on  me.  And  in  truth 
I  was  much  astonished. 

"  Yes,  my  lord,  there  is.  At  least,  not  so  very  far  from 
us.     Baron  de  Whichehalse,  of  Ley  Manor." 

"Baron,  ha!  of  the  Exchequer — eh,  lad?  And  taketh 
dues  instead  of  His  Majesty.  Somewhat  which  halts  there 
ought  to  come  a  little  farther,  I  trow.  It  shall  be  seen  to, 
as  well  as  the  witch  which  makes  it  so  to  halt.  Riotous 
knaves  in  West  England,  drunken  outlaws,  you  shall  dance, 
if  ever  I  play  pipe  for  you.  John  Ridd,  I  will  come  to 
Oare  parish,  and  rout  out  the  Oare  of  Babylon." 

*' Although  your  worship  is  so  learned,"  I  answered, 
seeing  that  now  he  was  beginning  to  make  things  uneasy; 
"  your  worship,  though  being  Chief-justice,  does  little  jus- 
tice to  us.  We  are  downright  good  and  loyal  folk;  and  I 
have  not  seen,  since  here  I  came  to  this  great  town  of 
London,  any  who  may  better  us,  or  even  come  anigh  us,  in 
honesty,  and  goodness,  and  duty  to  our  neighbors.  For 
we  are  very  quiet  folk,  not  prating  our  own  virtues " 

'*  Enough,  good  John,  enough!  Knowest  thou  not  that 
modesty  is  the  maidenhood  of  virtue,  lost  even  by  her  own 
approval?  Now  hast  thou  ever  heard  or  thought  that  De 
Whichehalse  is  in  league  with  the  Doones  of  Bagworthy?" 

Saying  these  words  rather  slowly,  he  skewered  his  ^reat 
eyes  into  mine,  so  that  I  could  not  think  at  all,  neither 
look  at  him,  nor  yet  away.  The  idea  was  so  new  to  me, 
that  it  set  my  wits  all  wandering;  and  looking  into  me,  he 
saw  that  I  was  groping  for  the  truth. 

**  John  Ridd,  thine  eyes  are  enough  for  me.  I  see  thou 
hast  never  dreamed  of  it.  Now  hast  thou  ever  seen  a  man 
whose  name  is  Thomas  Faggus?" 

*^  Yes,  sir,  many  and   many  a  time.     He   is  my  own 

worthy  cousin;  and  I  fear  that  he   hath  intentions " 

Here  I  stopped,  having  no  right  there  to  speak  about  our 
Annie. 

"Tom  Faggus  is  a  good  man,"  he  said;  and  his  great 
square  face  had  a  smile  which  showed  me  he  had  met  my 


204  LORNA  JbOONE, 

cousin;  "Master  Faggiis  hath  made  mistakes  as  to  the  titla 
to  property,  as  lawyers  oftentimes  may  do;  but  take  him 
all  for  all,  he  is  a  thoroughly  straightforward  man;  pre- 
sents his  bill,  and  has  it  paid,  and  makes  no  charge  for 
drawing  it.  Nevertheless,  we  must  tax  his  costs,  as  of  any 
other  solicitor." 

**To  be  sure,  to  be  sure,  my  lord!"  was  all  that  I  could 
say,  not  understanding  what  all  this  meant. 

"  I  fear  he  will  come  to  the  gallows,"  said  the  Lord 
Chief-justice,  sinking  his  voice  below  the  echoes;  *'  tell 
him  this  from  me.  Jack.  He  shall  never  be  condemned 
before  me;  but  I  cannot  be  everywhere;  and  some  of  our 
Justices  may  keep  short  memory  of  his  dinners.  Tell  him 
to  change  his  name,  turn  parson,  or  do  something  else,  to 
make  it  wrong  to  hang  him.  Parson  is  the  best  thing;  he 
hath  such  command  of  features,  and  he  might  take  his 
tithes  on  horseback.  Now  a  few  more  things,  John  Ridd, 
and  for  the  present  I  have  done  with  thee." 

All  my  heart  leaped  up  at  this,  to  getaway  from  London 
so:  and  yet  I  could  hardly  trust  to  it. 

"  Is  there  any  sound  round  your  way  of  disaffection  to 
His  Majesty,  His  most  gracious  Majesty?" 

"  No,  my  lord;  no  sign  whatever.  We  pray  for  him  in 
church,  perhaps;  and  we  talk  about  him  afterward,  hoping 
it  may  do  him  good,  as  it  is  intended.  But  after  that  we 
have  naught  to  say,  not  knowing  much  about  him — at 
least  till  1  get  home  again." 

"That  is  as  it  should  be,  John.  And  the  less  you  say 
the  better.  But  I  have  heard  of  things  in  Taunton,  and 
even  nearer  to  you  in  Dulverton,  and  even  nigher  still  upon 
Exmoor;  things  which  are  of  the  pillory  kind,  and  even 
more  of  the  gallows.  I  see  that  you  know  naught  of  them. 
Nevertheless,  it  will  not  be  long  before  all  England  hears 
of  them.  Now,  John,  I  have  taken  a  liking  to  thee;  for 
never  man  told  me  the  truth,  without  fear  or  favor,  more 
thoroughly  and  truly  than  thou  hast  done.  Keep  thou 
clear  of  this,  my  son.  It  will  come  to  nothing;  yet  many 
shall  swing  high  for  it!  Even  I  could  not  save  thee,  John 
Ridd,  if  thou  wert  mixed  in  this  affair.  Keep  from  the 
Doones,  keep  from  De  Whichehalse,  keep  from  everything 
which  leads  beyond  the  sight  of  thy  knowledge.  I  meant 
to  use  thee  as  my  tool;  but  I  see  thou  art  too  honest  and 


JOHN  IS  DRAINED  AND  CAST  ASIDE,  205 

simple.  I  will  send  a  sharper  down;  but  never  let  me  find 
thee,  John,  either  a  tool  for  the  other  side,  or  a  tube  for 
my  words  to  pass  through." 

Here  the  Lord-justice  gave  me  such  a  glare,  that  I  wished 
myself  well  rid  of  him,  though  thankful  for  his  warnings; 
and  seeing  how  he  had  made  upon  me  a  long  abiding  mark 
of  fear,  he  smiled  again  in  a  jocular  manner,  and  said: 

*'  Now  get  thee  gone,  Jack.  1  shall  remember  thee;  and 
1  trow,  thou  wilt^st  not  for  many  a  day  forget  me.'' 

*'  My  lord,  1  was  never  so  glad  to  go;  for  the  hay  must 
be  in,  and  the  ricks  unthatched,  and  none  of  them  can 
make  spars  like  me,  and  two  men  to  twist  every  hay-rope, 
and  mother  thinking  it  all  right,  and  listening  right  and 
left  to  lies,  and  cheated  at  every  pig  she  kills,  and  even  the 
skins  of  the  sheep  to  go " 

"  John  Ridd,  1  thought  none  could  come  nigh  your  folk 
in  honesty,  and  goodness,  and  duty  to  their  neighbors!" 

^'  Sure  enough,  my  lord;  but  by  our  folk  I  mean  our- 
selves, not  the  men  nor  women  neither " 

"  That  will  do,  John.  Go  thy  way.  Not  men,  nor 
women  neither,  are  better  than  they  need  be." 

I  wished  to  set  this  matter  right;  but  his  worship  would 
not  hear  me;  and  only  drove  me  out  of  the  court,  saying 
that  men  were  thieves  and  liars  no  more  in  one  place  than 
another,  but  all  alike  all  over  the  world,  and  women  not 
far  behind  them.  It  was  not  for  me  to  dispute  this  point 
(though  I  was  not  yet  persuaded  of  it),  both  because  my 
lord  was  a  judge,  and  must  know  more  about  it,  and  also 
that,  being  a  man  myself,  1  might  seem  to  be  defending 
myself  in  an  unbecoming  manner.  Therefore  I  made  a 
low  bow  and  went,  in  doubt  as  to  which  had  the  right 
of  it. 

But  though  he  had  so  far  dismissed  me,  I  was  not  yet 
quite  free  to  go,  inasmuch  as  I  had  not  money  enough  to 
take  me  all  the  way  to  Oare,  unless  indeed  I  should  go 
afoot,  and  beg  my  sustenance  by  the  way,  which  seemed  to 
be  below  me.  Therefore  I  got  my  few  clothes  packed,  and 
my  few  debts  paid,  all  ready  to  start  in  half  an  hour,  if 
only  they  would  give  me  enough  to  set  out  upon  the  road 
with.  For  I  doubted  not,  being  young  and  strong,  that  I 
could  walk  from  London  to  Oare  in  ten  days,  or  in  twelve 
at  most,  which  was  not  much  longer  than  horse- work;  only 


^06  LORNA  DOONE. 

I  had  been  a  fool,  as  you  will  say  when  you  hear  it.  For 
after  receiving  from  Master  Spank  the  amount  of  the  bill 
which  I  had  delivered — less  indeed  by  fifty  shillings  than 
the  money  my  mother  had  given  me,  for  I  had  spent  fifty 
shillings  and  more  in  seeing  the  town  and  treating  people, 
which  I  could  not  charge  to  His  Majesty — I  had  first  paid 
all  my  debts  thereout,  which  were  not  very  many;  and  then 
supposing  myself  to  be  an  established  creditor  of  the 
Treasury  for  my  coming  needs,  and  already  scenting  the 
country  air,  and  foreseeing  the  joy  of  my  mother,  what 
had  I  done  but  spent  half  my  balance,  ay,  and  more  than 
three-quarters  of  it,  upon  presents  for  mother,  and  Annie, 
and  Lizzie,  John  Fry,  and  his  wife,  and  Betty  Mux  worthy. 
Bill  Dadds,  Jim  Slocombe,  and,  in  a  word,  half  of  the 
rest  of  the  people  at  Oare,  including  all  the  Snowe  family, 
who  must  have  things  good  and  handsome?  And  if  I 
must,  while  I  am  about  it,  hide  nothing  from  those  who 
read  me,  I  had  actually  bought  for  Lorna  a  thing  the  price 
of  which  quite  frightened  me,  till  the  shop-keeper  said  it 
was  nothing  at  all,  and  that  no  young  man,  with  a  lady  to 
love  him,  could  dare  to  offer  her  rubbish  such  as  the  <5qw 
sold  across  the  way.  Now  the  mere  idea  of  beautiful  Lorna 
ever  loving  me,  which  he  talked  about  as  patly  (though 
of  course  I  never  mentioned  her)  as  if  it  were  a  settled 
thing,  and  he  knew  all  about  it,  that  mere  idea  so  drove 
me  abroad,  that,  if  he  had  asked  three  times  as  much, 
I  could  never  have  counted  the  money. 

Now  in  all  this  I  was  a  fool,  of  course — not  for  remem- 
bering my  friends  and  neighbors,  which  a  man  has  a  right 
to  do,  and  indeed  is  bound  to  do,  when  he  comes  from  Lon- 
don— but  for  not  being  certified  first  what  cash  I  had  to  go 
on  with.  And  to  my  great  amazement,  when  I  went  with 
another  bill  for  the  victuals  of  only  three  days  more,  and  a 
week's  expense  on  the  homeward  road  reckoned  very  nar- 
rowly, Master  Spank  not  only  refused  to  grant  me  any  in- 
terview, but  sent  me  out  a  piece  of  blue  paper;  looking  like 
a  butcher's  ticket,  and  bearing  these  words  and  no  more, 
**John  Ridd,  goto  the  devil.  He  who  will  not  when  he 
may,  when  he  will,  he  shall  have  nay.''  From  this  I  con- 
cluded that  I  had  lost  favor  in  the  sight  of  Chief-justice 
Jeffreys.  Perhaps  because  my  evidence  had  not  proved  of 
any  value;  perhaps  because  he  meant  to  let  the  matter  lie 
till  cast  on  him. 


JOHN  IS  BRAINED  AND  CAST  ASIDE.  20? 

Anyhow,  it  was  a  reason  of  much  grief,  and  some  anger 
to  me,  and  very  great  anxiety,  disappointment,  and  sus- 
pense. For  here  was  the  time  of  the  hay  gone  past,  and 
the  harvest  of  small  corn  coming  on,  and  the  trout  now 
rising  at  the  yellow  Sally,  and  the  blackbirds  eating  our 
white-heart  cherries  (I  was  sure,  though  I  could  not  see 
them),  and  who  was  to  do  any  good  for  mother,  or  stop  her 
from  weeping  continually?  And  more  than  this,  what  was 
to  become  of  Lorna?  Perhaps  she  had  cast  me  away 
altogether,  as  a  flouter  and  a  changeling;  perhaps  she  had 
drowned  herself  in  the  black  well;  perhaps  (and  that 
was  worst  of  all)  she  was  even  married,  child  as  she  was, 
to  that  vile  Carver  Doone,  if  the  Doones  ever  cared  about 
marrying.  That  kst  thought  sent  me  down  at  once  to 
watch  for  Mr.  Spank  again,  resolved  that  if  I  could  catch 
him,  spank  him  1  would  to  a  pretty  good  tune,  although 
sixteen  in  family. 

However,  there  was  no  such  thing  as  to  find  him;  and 
the  usher  vowed  (having  orders,  I  doubt)  that  he  was  gone 
to  the  sea  for  the  good  of  his  health,  having  sadly  over- 
worked himself;  and  that  none  but  a  poor  devil  like  him- 
self, who  never  had  handling  of  money,  would  stay  in 
London  this  foul,  hot  weather;  which  was  likely  to  bring 
the  plague  with  it.  Here  was  another  new  terror  for  me, 
who  had  heard  of  the  plagues  of  London,  and  the  horrible 
things  that  happened;  and  so  going  back  to  my  lodgings 
at  once,  I  opened  my  clothes  and  sought  for  spots,  especi- 
ally as  being  so  long  at  a  hairy  fell-monger's;  but  finding 
none,  I  fell  down  and  thanked  God  for  that  same,  and 
vowed  to  start  for  Oare  to-morrow,  with  my  carbine  loaded, 
come  weal  come  woe,  come  sun  come  shower;  though  all 
the  parish  should  laugh  at  me  for  begginp'  my  way  home 
again,  after  the  brave  things  said  of  my  going,  as  if  I  had 
been  the  King's  cousin. 

But  I  was  saved  in  some  degree  from  this  lowering  of 
my  pride,  and  what  mattered  more,  of  mother's;  for  going 
to  buy  with  my  last  crown-piece  (after  all  demands  were 
paid)  a  little  shot  and  powder,  more  needful  on  the  road 
almost  than  even  shoes  or  victuals,  at  the  corner  of  the 
street  I  met  my  good  friend  Jeremy  Stickles,  newly  come 
in  search  of  me.  I  took  him  back  to  my  little  room — 
mine  at  least  till  to-morrow  morning — and  told  him  all  my 


20B  LORNA  DOONE. 

story,  and  how  much  I  felt  aggrieved  by  it.  But  he  sur- 
prised me  very  much,  by  showing  no  surprise  at  all. 

"  It  is  the  way  of  the  world.  Jack.  They  have  gotten 
all  they  can  from  thee,  and  why  should  they  feed  thee 
further?  We  feed  not  a  dead  pig,  I  trow,  but  baste  him 
well  with  brine  and  rue.  Nay,  we  do  not  victual  him 
upon  the  day  of  killing;  which  they  have  done  to  thee. 
Thou  art  a  lucky  man,  John;  thou  hast  gotten  one  day's 
wages,  or  at  any  rate  half  a  day,  after  thy  work  was  ren- 
dered. God  have  mercy  on  me,  John!  The  things  I  see 
are  manifold;  and  so  is  my  regard  of  them.  What  use  to 
insist  on  this,  or  make  a  special  point  of  that,  or  hold  by 
something  said  of  old,  when  a  different  mood  was  on?  I 
tell  thee,  Jack,  all  men  are  liars;  and  he  is  the  least  one 
who  presses  not  too  hard  on  them  for  lying.'' 

This  was  all  quite  dark  to  me,  for  I  never  looked  at 
things  like  that,  and  never  would  own  m3'self  a  liar,  not 
at  least  to  other  people,  nor  even  to  myself,  although  1 
might  to  God  sometimes,  when  trouble  was  upon  me. 
And  if  it  comes  to  that,  no  man  has  any  right  to  be  called  a 
"  liar"  for  smoothing  over  things  unwitting,  through  duty 
to  his  neighbor. 

''Five  pounds  thou  shalt  have.  Jack,"  said  Jeremy 
Stickles  suddenly,  while  I  was  all  abroad  with  myself  as  to 
being  a  liar  or  not;  "five  pounds,  and  I  will  take  my 
chance  of  wringing  it  from  that  great  rogue  Spank.  Ten 
I  would  have  made  it,  John,  but  for  bad  luck  lately.  Put 
back  your  bits  of  paper,  lad;  I  will  have  no  acknowledg- 
ment.    John  Ridd,  no  nonsense  with  me!" 

For  I  was  ready  to  kiss  his  hand,  to  think  that  any  man 
in  London  (the  meanest  and  most  suspicious  place  upon 
all  God's  earth)  should  trust  me  with  five  pounds  without 
even  a  receipt  for  it.  It  overcame  me  so  that  I  sobbed; 
for  after  all,  though  big  in  body,  I  am  but  a  child  at  heart. 
It  was  not  the  five  pounds  which  moved  me,  but  the  way 
of  giving  it;  and,  after  so  much  bitter  talk,  the  great  trust 
in  my  goodness. 


MOME  A  GAIN  A  T  LAST.  209 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

HOME   AGAIN   AT   LAST. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  wlieat-havvest  when  I  came  to 
Dunster  town,  having  walked  all  the  way  from  London, 
and  being  somewhat  foot-sore.  For  though  five  pounds 
was  enough  to  keep  me  in  food  and  lodging  upon  the 
road,  and  leave  me  many  a  shilling  to  give  to  far  poorer 
travelers,  it  would  have  been  nothing  for  horse  hire,  as  I 
knew  too  well  by  the  prices  Jeremy  Stickles  had  paid  upon 
our  way  to  London.  Now,  I  never  saw  a  prettier  town 
than  Dunster  looked  that  evening;  for  sooth  to  say,  I  had 
almost  lost  all  hope  of  reaching  it  that  night,  although  the 
castle  was  long  in  view.  But  being  once  there,  my 
troubles  were  gone,  at  least  as  regarded  wayfaring;  for 
mother's  cousin,  the  worthy  tanner  (with  wliom  we  had 
slept  on  the  way  to  London)  was  in  such  indignation  at 
the  plight  in  which  I  came  back  to  him,  afoot,  and  weary, 
and  almost  shoeless — not  to  speak  of  upper  things — that 
he  swore  then,  by  the  mercy  of  God,  that  if  the  schemes 
a-brewing  round  him  against  those  bloody  Papists  should 
come  to  any  head  or  shape,  and  show  good  chance  of  suc- 
ceeding, he  would  risk  a  thousand  pounds  as  tliough  it 
were  a  penny. 

I  told  him  not  to  do  it,  because  I  had  heard  otherwise, 
but  was  not  at  liberty  to  tell  one-tenth  of  what  I  knew, 
and,  indeed,  had  seen  in  London  town.  But  of  this  he 
took  no  heed,  because  I  only  nodded  at  him;  and  he  could 
not  make  it  out.  For  it  takes  an  old  man,  or  at  least  a 
middle-aged  one,  to  nod  and  wink  with  any  power  on  the 
brains  of  other  men.  However,  I  think  I  made  him  know 
that  the  bad  state  in  which  I  came  to  his  town,  and  the  great 
shame  I  had  wrought  for  him  among  the  folk  round  the 
card  table  at  the  ^*  Luttrell  Arms,"  was  not  to  be,  even 
there,  attributed  to  King  Charles  the  Second,  nor  even  to 


210  LORNA  POONE. 

his  counselors,  but  to  my  own  speed  of  traveling,  which 
had  beat  post-horses.  For  being  much  distraught  in  mind, 
and  desperate  in  body,  I  had  made  all  the  way  from 
London  to  Dunster  in  six  days,  and  no  more.  It  may  be 
one  hundred  and  seventy  miles,  I  cannot  tell  to  a  furlong 
or  two,  especially  as  I  lost  my  way  more  than  a  dozen 
times;  but  at  any  rate  there  in  six  days  I  was,  and  most 
kindly  they  received  me.  The  tanner  had  some  excellent 
daughters,  I  forget  how  many;  very  pretty  damsels,  and 
well  set  up,  and  able  to  make  good  tanner's  pie.  But 
though  they  asked  me  many  questions,  and  made  a  sort  of 
lord  of  me,  and  offered  to  darn  my  stockings  (which,  in 
truth,  required  it),  I  fell  asleep  in  the  midst  of  them, 
although  I  would  not  acknowledge  it;  and  they  said, 
**  Poor  Cousin!  he  is  weary;"  and  led  me  to  a  blessed  bed, 
and  kissed  me  all  round  like  swan's  down. 

In  the  morning  all  the  Exmoor  hills,  the  thoughts  of 
which  had  frightened  me  at  the  end  of  each  day's  travel, 
seemed  no  more  than  bushels  to  me,  as  I  looked  forth  the 
bedroom  window,  and  thanked  God  for  the  sight  of  them. 
And  even  so,  I  had  not  to  climb  them,  at  least  by  my  own 
labor.  For  my  most  worthy  uncle  (as  we  often  call  a  par- 
ent's cousin),  finding  it  impossible  to  keep  me  for  the  day, 
and  owning,  indeed,  that  [  was  right  in  hastening  to  my 
mother,  vowed  that  walk  I  should  not,  even  though  he  lost  his 
Saturday  hides  from  Minehead  and  from  Watchett.  Accord- 
ingly, he  sent  me  forth  on  the  very  strongest  nag  he  had,  and 
the  maidens  came  to  wish  me  Godspeed,  and  kissed  their 
hands  at  the  door- way.  It  made  me  proud  and  glad  to 
think  that  after  seeing  so  much  of  the  world,  and  having 
held  my  own  with  it,  I  was  come  once  more  among  my 
own  people,  and  found  them  kinder,  and  more  warm- 
hearted, ay,  and  better  looking,  too,  than  almost  any  I  had 
happened  upon  in  the  mighty  city  of  London. 

But  how  shall  I  tell  you  the  things  I  felt,  and  the  swell- 
ing of  my  heart  within  me,  as  I  drew  nearer,  and  more 
near,  to  the  place  of  all  I  loved  and  owned,  to  the  haunt 
of  every  warm  remembrance,  the  nest  of  all  the  fledge- 
ling hopes — in  a  word,  to  home?  The  first  sheep  I  beheld 
on  the  moor  with  a  great  red  J.  R.  on  his  side  (for  mother 
would  have  them  marked  with  my  name,  instead  of  her 
own,  as  they  should  have  been),  I  do  assure  you  my  spirit 


HOME  AGAIN  AT  LAST.  211 

leaped,  and  all  my  sight  came  to  my  eyes.  I  shouted  out, 
*' Jem,  boy!" — for  that  was  his  name,  and  a  rare  hand  he 
was  at  fighting — and  he  knew  me  in  spite  of  the  stranger 
horse;  and  I  leaned  over  and  stroked  his  head,  and  swore 
he  should  never  be  mutton.  And  when  I  was  passed,  he 
set  off  at  full  gallop,  to  call  all  the  rest  of  the  J.  K's  to- 
gether, and  tell  them  young  master  was  come  home  at 
last. 

Bat  bless  your  heart,  and  my  own  as  well,  it  would  take 
me  all  the  afternoon  to  lay  before  you  one-tenth  of  the  things 
which  came  home  to  me  in  that  one  half-hour,  as  the  sun 
was  sinking,  in  the  real  way  he  ought  to  sink.  I  touched 
my  horse  with  no  spur  nor  whip,  feeling  that  my  slow  wits 
would  go,  if  the  sights  came  too  fast  over  them.  Here 
was  the  pool  where  we  washed  the  sheep,  and  there  was 
the  hollow  that  oozed  away,  where  I'  had  shot  three  wild 
ducks.  Here  was  the  peat-rick  that  hid  my  dinner,  when 
I  could  not  go  home  for  it,  and  there  was  the  bush  with 
the  thyme  growing  round  it,  where  Annie  had  found  a 
great  swarm  of  our  bees.  And  now  was  the  corner  of  the 
dry  stone- wall,  where  the  moor  gave  over  in  earnest,  and 
the  partridges  whisked  from  it  into  the  corn  lands,  and 
called  that  their  supper  was  ready,  and  looked  at  our 
house  and  the  ricks  as  they  ran,  and  would  wait  for  that 
comfort  till  winter. 

And  there  I  saw — but  let  me  go — Annie  was  too  much 
for  me.  She  nearly  pulled  me  off  my  horse,  and  kissed 
the  very  mouth  of  the  carbine. 

**I  knew  you  would  come.  Oh  John!  oh  John!  I  have 
waited  here  every  Saturday  night;  and  I  saw  you  for  the 
last  mile  or  more,  but  I  would  not  come  round  the  corner, 
for  fear  that  I  should  cry,  John;  and  then  not  cry  when  I 
got  you.  Now  I  may  cry  as  much  as  I  like,  and  you  need 
not  try  to  stop  me,  John,  because  I  am  so  happy.  But 
you  mustn't  cry  yourself,  John;  what  will  mother  think  of 
you?    She  will  be  so  jealous  of  me." 

What  mother  thought  I  can  not  tell;  and  indeed  I  doubt 
if  she  thought  at  all  for  more  than  half  an  hour,  but  only 
managed  to  hold  me  tight,  and  cry,  and  thank  God  now 
and  then;  but  with  some  fear  of  his  taking  me,  if  she 
should  be  too  grateful.  Moreover,  she  thought  it  was  my 
own  doing,  and  I  ought  to  have  the  credit  of  it;  and  sh^ 


213  LORNA  DOONE, 

even  came  down  very  sharply  upon  John's  wife,  Mrs.  Fry, 
for  saying  that  we  must  not  be  too  proud,  for  all  of  it  was 
the  Lord's  doing.  However,  dear  mother  was  ashamed  of 
that  afterward,  and  asked  Mrs.  Fry's  humble  pardon;  and 
perhaps  I  ought  not  to  have  mentioned  it. 

Old  Smiler  had  told  them  that  I  was  coming — all  the 
rest  I  mean  except  Annie — for  having  escaped  from  his 
halter- ring,  he  was  come  out  to  graze  in  the  lane  a  bit; 
when  what  should  he  see  but  a  strange  horse  coming,  with 
young  master  and  mistress  upon  him,  for  Annie  must 
needs  get  up  behind  me,  there  being  only  sheep  to  look  at 
her?  Then  Smiler  gave  us  a  stare  and  a  neigh,  with  his 
tail  quite  stiff  with  amazement,  and  then  (whether  in  joy 
or  through  indignation)  he  flung  up  his  hind  feet,  and 
galloped  straight  home,  and  set  every  dog  wild  with  barking. 

Now  methinks  quite  enough  has  been  said  concerning 
this  mighty  return  of  the  young  John  Ridd  (which  was 
known  up  at  Cosgate  that  evening);  and  feeling  that  I 
cannot  describe  it,  how  can  I  hope  that  any  one  else  will 
labor  to  imagine  it,  even  of  the  few  who  are  able?  For 
very  few  can  have  traveled  so  far,  unless  indeed  they  whose 
trade  it  is,  or  very  unsettled  people.  And  even  of  those 
who  have  done  so,  not  one  in  a  hundred  can  have  such  a 
home  as  I  had  to  come  home  to. 

Mother  wept  again,  with  grief  and  some  wrath,  and  so 
did  Annie  also,  and  even  little  Eliza;  and  all  were  unset- 
tled in  loyalty,  and  talked  about  a  republic,  when  I  told 
them  how  I  had  been  left  without  money  for  traveling 
homeward,  and  expected  to  have  to  beg  my  way,  which 
Farmer  Snowe  would  have  heard  of.  And  though  I  could 
see  they  were  disappointed  at  my  failure  of  any  promotion, 
they  all  declared  how  glad  they  were,  and  how  much  better 
they  liked  me  to  be  no  more  than  what  they  were  accus- 
tomed to.  At  least,  my  mother  and  Annie  said  so,  with- 
out waiting  to  hear  any  more;  but  Lizzie  did  not  answer  to 
it  until  I  had  opened  my  bag  and  shown  the  beautiful 
present  I  had  for  her.  And  then  she  kissed  me  almost 
like  Annie,  and  vowed  that  she  thought  very  little  of 
captains. 

For  Lizzie's  present  was  the  best  of  all,  I  mean,  of  course, 
except  Lorna's  (which  I  carried  in  my  breast  all  the  way, 
hoping  that  it  might  make  her  love  me,  from  having  lain 


HOME  A  GAIN  A  T  LAST.  213 

SO  long  close  to  my  heart).  For  I  had  brought  Lizzie 
something  dear,  and  a  precious  heavy  book  it  was,  and 
much  beyond  my  understanding:  whereas  I  knew  well  that 
to  both  the  others  my  gifts  would  be  dear,  for  mine  own 
sake.  And  happier  people  could  not  be  found  than  the 
whole  of  us  were  that  evening. 


!14  LORNA  DOOJNE. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

JOHN   HAS  HOPE   OF  LORNA. 

Much  as  I  longed  to  know  more  about  Lorna,  and 
though  all  my  heart  was  yearning,  I  could  not  reconcile  it 
yet  with  my  duty  to  mother  and  Annie,  to  leave  them  on 
the  following  day,  which  happened  to  be  a  Sunday.  For 
lo,  before  breakfast  was  out  of  our  mouths,  there  came  all 
the  men  of  the  farm,  and  their  wives,  and  even  the  two 
crow-boys,  dressed  as  if  going  to  Barnstaple  Fair,  to  in- 
quire how  Master  John  was,  and  whether  it  was  true  that 
the  King  had  made  him  one  of  his  body-guard;  and  if  so, 
what  was  to  be  done  with  the  belt  for  the  championship  of 
the  West  Counties  wrestling,  which  I  had  held  now  for  a 
year  or  more,  and  none  were  ready  to  challenge  it.  Strange 
to  say  this  last  point  seemed  the  most  important  of  all  to 
them;  and  none  asked  who  was  to  manage  the  farm,  or 
answer  for  their  wages;  but  all  asked  who  was  to  wear  the 
belt. 

To  this  I  replied,  after  shaking  hands  twice  over  all 
round  with  all  of  them,  that  I  meant  to  wear  the  belt  my- 
self, for  the  honor  of  Oare  parish,  so  long  as  ever  God 
gave  me  strength  and  health  to  meet  all  comers;  for  I  had 
never  been  asked  to  be  body-guard;  and  if  asked  I  would 
never  have  done  it.  Some  of  them  cried  that  the  King 
must  be  mazed,  not  to  keep  me  for  his  protection,  in  these 
violent  times  of  Popery.  I  could  have  told  them  that  the 
King  was  not  in  the  least  afraid  of  Papists,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  very  fond  of  them;  however,  I  held  my  tongue, 
remembering  what  Judge  Jeffreys  bade  me.  - 

In  church,  the  whole  congregation,  man,  woman,  and 
child  (except  indeed  the  Snowe  girls,  who  only  looked 
when  I  was  not  watching),  turned  on  me  with  one  accord, 
and  stared  so  steadfastly,  to  get  some  reflection  of  the  King 
from  me,  that  they  forgot  the  time  to  kneel  down,  and  the 


JOHN  HAS  HOPE  OF  LORNA,  215 

parson  was  forced  to  speak  to  them.  If  I  coughed,  or 
moved  my  book,  or  bowed,  or  even  said  '*  Amen,'^  glances 
were  exchanged  which  meant — '^  That  he  hath  learned  in 
London  town,  and  most  likely  from  His  Majesty." 

However,  all  this  went  off  in  time;  and  people  became 
even  angry  with  me  for  not  being  sharper  (as  they  said),  or 
smarter,  or  a  whit  more  fashionable,  for  all  the  great  com- 
pany I  had  seen,  and  all  the  wondrous  things  wasted  upon  me. 

But  though  I  may  have  been  none  the  wiser  by  reason  of 
my  stay  in  London,  at  any  rate  I  was  much  better  in  virtue 
of  coming  home  again.  For  now  I  had  learned  the  joy  of 
quiet,  and  the  gratitude  for  good  things  round  us,  and  the 
love  we  owe  to  others  (even  those  who  must  be  kind),  for 
their  indulgence  to  us.  All  this,  before  my  journey,  had 
been  too  much  as  a  matter  of  course  to  me;  but  having 
missed  it  now,  I  knew  that  it  was  a  gift,  and  might  be  lost. 
Moreover,  I  had  pined  so  much,  in  the  dust  and  heat  of 
that  great  town,  for  trees,  and  fields,  and  running  waters, 
and  the  sounds  of  country  life,  and  the  air  of  country 
winds,  that  nevermore  could  I  grow  weary  of  those  soft 
enjoyments;  or  at  least  I  thought  so  then. 

To  awake  as  the  summer  sun  came  slanting  over  the  hill- 
tops, with  hope  on  every  beam  adance  to  the  laughter  of 
the  morning;  to  see  the  leaves  across  the  window  ruffling 
on  the  fresh  new  air,  and  the  tendrils  of  the  powdery  vine 
turning  from  their  beaded  sleep.  Then  the  lustrous 
meadows  far  beyond  the  thatch  of  the  garden-well,  yet  seen 
beneath  the  hanging  scollops  of  the  walnut-tree,  all  awak- 
ing, dressed  in  pearl,  all  amazed  at  their  own  glistening, 
like  a  maid  at  her  own  ideas.  Down  them  troop  the 
lowing  kine,  walking  each  with  a  step  of  character  (even 
as  men  and  women  do),  yet  all  alike  with  toss  of  horns, 
and  spread  of  udders  ready.  From  them,  without  a  word, 
we  turn  to  the  farm-yard  proper,  seen  on  the  right,  and 
dryly  st rawed  from  the  petty  rush  of  the  pitch-paved 
runnel.  Round  it  stand  the  snug  out-buildings,  barn,  corn- 
chamber,  cider-press,  stables,  with  a  blinkered  horse  in 
every  door-way  munching,  while  his  driver  tightens  buckles, 
whistles  and  looks  down  the  lane,  dallying  to  begin  his 
labor  till  the  milkmaids  be  gone  by.  Here  the  cock  comes 
forth  at  last; — where  he  has  been  lingering,  eggs  may  tell 
to-morrow — he  claps  his  wings  and  shouts  *^  cock  a-doodle;" 


216  LORNA  BOONE. 

and  no  other  cock  dare  look  at  him.  Two  or  three  go 
sideling  off,  waiting  till  their  spurs  be  grown;  and  then  the 
crowd  of  partlets  comes,  chattering  how  their  lord  has 
dreamed,  and  crowed  at  two  in  the  morning,  and  praying 
that  the  old  brown  rat  would  only  dare  to  face  him.  But 
while  the  cock  is  crowing  still,  and  the  pullet  world  admir- 
ing him,  who  comes  up  but  the  old  turkey-cock,  with  all 
his  family  round  liim.  Then  the  geese  at  the  lower  end 
begin  to  thrust  their  breasts  out,  and  mum  their  down-bits, 
and  look  at  the  gander  and  scream  shrill  joy  for  the  con- 
flict; while  the  ducks  in  pond  show  nothing  but  tail,  in 
proof  of  their  strict  neutrality. 

While  yet  we  dread  for  the  coming  event,  and  the  fight 
which  would  jar  on  the  morning,  behold  the  grandmother 
of  sows,  gruffly  grunting  right  and  left  with  muzzle  which 
no  ring  may  tame  (not  being  matrimonial),  hulks  across 
between  the  two,  moving  all  each  side  at  once,  and  then  all 
of  the  other  side,  as  if  she  were  chined  down  the  middle, 
and  afraid  of  spilling  the  salt  from  her.  As  this  mighty 
view  of  lard  hides  each, combatant  from  the  other,  gladly 
each  retires  and  boasts  how  he  would  have  slain  his  neigh- 
bor, but  that  old  sow  drove  the  other  away,  and  no  wonder 
he  was  afraid  of  her,  after  all  the  chicks  she  had  eaten. 

And  so  it  goes  on;  and  so  the  sun  comes,  stronger  from 
his  drink  of  dew;  and  the  cattle  in  the  byres,  and  the 
horses  from  the  stable,  and  the  men  from  the  cottage  door, 
each  had  his  rest  and  food,  all  smell  alike  of  hay  and  straw, 
and  every  one  must  hie  to  work,  be  it  drag,  or  draw,  or 
delve. 

So  thought  I  on  the  Monday  morning;  while  my  own 
work  lay  before  me,  and  I  was  plotting  how  to  quit  it,  void 
of  harm  to  every  one,  and  let  my  love  have  work  a  little — 
hardest  perhaps  of  all  work,  and  yet  as  sure  as  sunrise.  I 
knew  that  my  first  day's  task  on  the  farm  would  be  strictly 
watched  by  every  one,  even -by  my  gentle  mother,  to  see 
what  I  had  learned  in  London.  But  could  I  let  still  another 
day  pass,  for  Lorna  to  think  me  faithless? 

I  felt  much  inclined  to  tell  dear  mother  all  about  Lorna, 
and  how  I  loved  her,  yet  had  no  hope  of  winning  her. 
Often  and  often  I  had  longed  to  do  this,  and  have  done 
with  it.  But  the  thought  of  my  father's  terrible  death  at 
the  hands  of  the  Doones  prevented  me.     And  it  seemed  to 


JOHN  HAS  HOPE  OF  LORN  A.  217 

me  foolish  and  mean  to  grieve  mother  without  any  chance 
of  my  suit  ever  speeding.  If  once  Lorna  loved  me,  my  mother 
should  know  it;  and  it  would  be  the  greatest  happiness  to 
me  to  have  no  concealment  from  her,  though  at  first  she 
was  sure  to  grieve  terribly.  But  I  saw  no  more  chance  of 
Lorna  loving  me,  than  of  the  man  in  the  moon  coming 
down;  or  rather  of  the  moon  coming  down  to  the  man,  as 
related  in  old  mythology. 

Now  the  merriment  of  the  small  birds,  and  the  clear 
voice  of  the  waters,  and  the  lowing  of  cattle  in  meadows, 
and  the  view  of  no  houses  (except  just  our  own  and  a 
neighbor's),  and  the  knowledge  of  every  body  around,  their 
kindness  of  heart  and  simplicity,  and  love  of  their  neigh- 
bor's doings — all  these  could  not  help  or  please  me  at  all, 
and  many  of  them  were  much  against  me,  in  my  secret 
depth  of  longing  and  dark  tumult  of  the  mind.  Many 
people  may  think  me  foolish,  especially  after  coming  from 
London,  where  many  nice  maids  looked  at  me  (on  account 
of  my  bulk  and  stature),  and  I  might  have  been  fitted  up 
with  a  sweatheart,  in  spite  of  my  west-country  twang,  and 
the  smallness  of  my  purse,  if  only  1  had  said  the  word. 
But  nay;  I  have  contempt  for  a  man  whose  heart  is  like  a 
shirt-stud  (such  as  I  saw  in  London  cards),  fitted  into  one 
to-day,  sitting  bravely  on  the  breast;  plucked  out  on  the 
morrow  morn,  and  the  place  that  knew  it,  gone. 

Now  what  did  I  do  but  take  my  chance,  reckless  whether 
any  one  heeded  me  or  not,  only  craving  Lorna's  heed,  and 
time  for  ten  words  to  her.  Therefore  I  left  the  men  of  the 
farm  as  far  away  as  might  be,  after  making  them  work  with 
me  (which  no  man  round  our  parts  could  do,  to  his  own 
satisfaction)  and  then  knowing  then  to  be  well  weary,  very 
unlike  to  follow  me — and  still  more  unlike  to  tell  of  me,  for 
each  had  his  London  present — I  strode  right  away,  in  good 
trust  of  my  speed,  without  any  more  misgivings;  but  re- 
solved to  face  the  worst  of  it,  and  to  try  to  be  home  for 
supper. 

And  first  I  went,  I  know  not  why,  to  the  crest  of  the 
broken  highland,  whence  I  had  agreed  to  watch  for  any  mark 
or  signal.  And  sure  enough,  at  last  I  saw  (when  it  was  too 
late  to  see)  that  the  white  stone  had  been  covered  over  with 
a  cloth  or  mantle — the  sign  that  something  had  arisen  to 
make  Lorna  want  me.     For  a  moment  I  stood  amazed  at 


218  LORNA  DOONE. 

my  evil  fortune;  that  I  should  be  too  late  in  the  very  thing 
of  all  things  on  which  my  heart  was  set!  Then,  after 
eying  sorrowfully  every  crick  and  cranny,  to  be  sure  that 
not  a  single  flutter  of  my  love  was  visible,  oif  I  set,  with 
small  respect  either  for  my  knees  or  neck,  to  make  the 
round  of  the  outer  cliffs,  and  come  up  to  my  old  access. 

Nothing  could  stop  me;  it  was  not  long,  although  to 
me  it  seemed  an  age,  before  I  stood  in  the  niche  of  rock 
at  the  head  of  the  slippery  water-course,  and  gazed  into 
the  quiet  glen,  where  my  foolish  heart  was  dwelling.  Not- 
withstanding doubts  of  right,  notwithstanding  sense  of 
duty,  and  despite  all  manly  striving,  and  the  great  love  of 
my  home,  there  my  heart  was  ever  dwelling,  knowing  what 
«,  fool  it  was,  and  content  to  know  it. 

Many  birds  came  twittering  round  me  in  the  gold  of 
August;  many  trees  showed  twinkling  beauty  as  the  sun 
went  lower,  and  the  lines  of  water  fell,  from  wrinkles  into 
dimples.  Little  heeding,  there  I  crouched;  though  with 
sense  of  everything  that  afterward  should  move  me,  like  a 
picture  or  a  dream,  and  everything  went  by  me  softly 
while  my  heart  was  gazing. 

At  last  a  little  figure  came,  not  insignificant  (I  mean), 
but  looking  very  light  and  slender  in  the  moving  shadows, 
gently  here  and  softly  there,  as  if  vague  of  purpose,  with  a 
gloss  of  tender  movement,  in  and  out  the  wealth  of  trees, 
and  liberty  of  the  meadow.  Who  was  I  to  crouch  or  doubt, 
or  look  at  her  from  a  distance,  what  matter  if  they  killed 
me  now,  and  one  tear  came  ta  bury  me?  Therefore  I 
rushed  out  at  once,  as  if  shot-guns  were  unknown  yet;  not 
from  any  real  courage,  but  from  prisoned  love  burst  forth. 

I  know  not  whether  my  own  Lorna  was  afraid  of  what  I 
looked,  or  what  I  might  say  to  her,  or  of  her  own  thoughts 
of  me:  all  I  know  is  that  she  looked  frightened  when  I 
hoped  for  gladness.  Perhaps  the  power  of  my  joy  was 
more  than  maiden  liked  to  own,  or  in  any  way  to  answer 
to;  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  it  seemed  as  if  I  miglit  now 
forget  myself;  while  she  would  take  good  care  of  it.  This 
makes  a  man  grow  thoughtful;  unless,  as  some  low  fellows 
do,  he  believe  all  women  hypocrites. 

Therefore  I  went  slowly  toward  her,  taken  back  in  my 
impulse;  and  said  all  1  could  come  to  say,  with  some  dis- 
tress in  doing  it. 


JOHN  MAS  BOPS  OF  LORNA,  219 

"  Mistress  Lorna,  I  had  hope  that  you  were  in  need  of 
me/' 

"Oh  yes;  but  that  was  long  ago;  two  months  ago,  or 
more,  sir."  And  saying  this  she  looked  away,  as  if  it  were 
all  over.  But  I  was  now  so  dazed  and  frightened  that  it 
took  my  breath  away,  and  I  could  not  answer,  feeling  sure 
that  I  was  robbed  and  some  one  else  had  won  her.  And  I 
tried  to  turn  away,  without  another  word,  and  go. 

But  I  could  not  help  one  stupid  sob,  though  mad  with 
myself  for  allowing  it,  but  it  came  too  shai-p  for  pride  to 
stay  it,  and  it  told  a  world  of  things.  Lorna  heard  it,  and 
ran  to  me,  with  her  bright  eyes  full  of  wonder,  pity,  and 
great  kindness,  as  if  amazed  that  I  had  more  than  a 
simple  liking  for  her.  Then  she  held  out  both  hands  to 
me,  and  I  took  and  looked  at  them. 

**  Master  Ridd,  I  did  not  mean,'*  she  whispered  very 
softly,  "  I  did  not  mean  to  vex  you." 

*'  If  you  would  be  loath  to  vex  me,  none  else  in  this 
world  can  do  it,"  I  answered  out  of  my  great  love,  but 
fearing  yet  to  look  at  her,  mine  eyes  not  being  strong 
enough. 

*'Come  away  from  this  bright  place,"  she  answered, 
trembling  in  her  turn;  "  I  am  watched  and  spied  of  late. 
Come  beneath  the  shadows,  John." 

I  would  have  leaped,  into  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death  (as  described  by  the  late  John  Bunyan),  only  to  hear 
her  call  me  'John;'  though  Apollyon  were  lurking  there, 
and  Despair  should  lock  me  in. 

She  stole  across  the  silent  grass;  but  I  strode  hotly  after 
her;  fear  was  all  beyond  me  now,  except  the  fear  of  losing 
her.  I  could  not  but  behold  her  manner,  as  she  went 
before  me,  all  her  grace,  and  lovely  sweetness,  and  her 
sense  of  what  she  was. 

She  led  me  to  her  own  rich  bower,  which  I  told  of  once 
before;  and  if  in  spring  it  were  a  sight,  what  was  it  in 
summer  glory?  But  although  my  mind  had  notice  of  its 
fairness  and  its  wonder,  not  a  heed  my  heart  took  of  it, 
neither  dwelt  it  in  my  presence  more  than  flowing  water. 
All  that  in  my  presence  dwelt,  all  that  in  my  heart  was 
felt,  was  the  maiden  moving  gently,  and  afraid  to  look  at 
me. 

For  now  the  power  of  my  love  was  abiding  on  her,  new 


220  LOR^A  DOOUtZ 

to  her,  unknown  to  her;  not  a  thing  to  speak  about,  nor 
even  to  think  clearly;  only  just  to  feel  and  wonder,  with  a 
pain  of  sweetness.  She  could  look  at  me  no  more,  neither 
could  she  look  away,  with  a  studied  manner — only  to  let 
fall  her  eyes,  and  blush,  and  be  put  out  with  me,  and  still 
more  with  herself. 

I  left  her  quite  alone;  though  close,  though  tingling  to 
have  hold  of  her.  Even  her  right  hand  was  dropped  and 
lay  among  the  mosses.  Neither  did  I  try  to  steal  one 
glimpse  below  her  eyelids.  Life  and  death  were  hanging 
on  the  first  glance  I  should  win;  yet  I  let  it  be  so. 

After  long  or  short — I  know  not,  yet  ere  I  was  weary, 
ere  I  yet  began  to  think  or  wish  for  any  answer — Lorna 
slowly  raised  her  eyelids,  with  a  gleam  of  dew  below  them, 
and  looked  at  me  doubtfully.  Any  look  with  so  much  in 
it  never  met  my  gaze  before. 

*' Darling,  do  you  love  me?"  was  all  that  1  could  say  to 
her. 

"Yes,  I  like  you  very  much,"  she  answered,  with  her 
eyes  gone  from  me,  and  her  dark  hair  falling  over,  so  as 
not  to  show  me  things. 

'^  But  do  you  love  me,  Lorna,  Lorna;  do  you  love  me 
more  than  all  the  world?" 

"  No,  to  be  sure  not.     Now  why  should  I?" 

"  In  truth,  I  know  not  why  you  should.  Only  I  hoped 
that  you  did,  Lorna.  Either  love  me  not  at  all,  or  as  I 
love  you,  forever." 

"  John,  I  love  you  very  much,  and  I  would  not  grieve 
you.  You  are  the  bravest,  and  the  kindest,  and  the 
simplest  of  all  men — I  mean  of  all  people — I  like  you  very 
much,  Master  Ridd,  and  I  think  of  you  almost  every  day." 

'*  That  will  not  do  for  me,  Lorna.  Not  almost  every 
day  I  think,  but  every  instant  of  my  life,  of  you.  For  you 
I  would  give  up  my  home,  my  love  of  all  the  world  be- 
side, my  duty  to  my  dearest  ones;  for  you  I  would  give  up 
my  life,  and  hope  of  life  beyond  it.     Do  you  love  me  so?" 

"  Not  by  any  means,"  said  Lorna;  "  no;  I  like  you  very 
much  when  you  do  not  talk  so  wildly;  and  I  like  to  see 
you  come  as  if  you  would  fill  our  valley  up,  and  I  like  to 
think  that  even  Carver  would  be  nothing  in  your  hands— 
but  as  to  liking  you  like  that,  what  should  make  it  likely, 
especially  when  I  have  made  the  signal,  and  for  some  two 


JOHN  HAS  HOPE  OF  LORNA.  221 

months  or  more  you  have  never  even  answered  it?  If  you 
like  me  so  ferociously,  why  do  you  leave  me  for  other 
people  to  do  just  as  they  like  with  me?" 

''  To  do  as  they  liked!  Oh,  Lorna,  not  to  make  you 
marry  Carver?" 

''  No,  Master  Eidd,  be  not  frightened  so;  it  makes  me 
fear  to  look  at  you." 

**  But  you  have  not  married  Carver  yet?  Say  quick? 
Why  keep  me  waiting  so?" 

**  Of  course  I  have  not.  Master  Ridd.  Should  I  be  here 
if  I  had,  think  you,  and  allowing  you  to  like  me  so,  and  to 
hold  my  hand,  and  make  me  laugh,  as  I  declare  you 
almost  do  sometimes?  And  at  other  times  you  frighten 
me." 

''  Did  they  want  you  to  marry  Carver?  Tell  me  all  the 
truth  of  it/ 

**  Not  yet,  not  yet.  They  are  not  half  so  impetuous  as 
you  are,  John.  1  am  only  just  seventeen,  you  know,  and 
who  is  to  think  of  marrying?  But  they  wanted  me  to  give 
my  word,  and  be  formally  betrothed  to  him  in  the  presence 
of  my  grandfather.  It  seems  that  something  frightened 
them.  There  is  a  youth  named  Charleworth  Doone,  every 
one  calls  him  **  Charlie; "  a  headstrong  and  gay  young  man, 
very  gallant  in  his  looks  and  manner;  and  my  uncle,  the 
Counselor,  chose  to  fancy  that  Charlie  looked  at  me  too 
much  coming  by  my  grandfather's  cottage." 

Here  Lorna  blushed  so  that  I  was  frightened,  and  began 
to  hate  this  Charlie  more,  a  great  deal  more,  than  even 
Carver  Doone. 

*'  He  had  better  not,"  said  I;  **  I  will  fling  him  over  it» 
if  he  dare.  He  shall  see  thee  through  the  roof,  Lorna,  if 
at  all  he  see  thee." 

"  Master  Ridd,  you  are  worse  than  Carver!  I  thought 
you  were  so  kind-hearted.  Well,  they  wanted  me  to  prom- 
ise^  and  even  to  swear  a  solemn  oath  (a  thing  I  had  never 
done  in  my  life)  that  I  would  wed  my  eldest  cousin,  this 
same  Carver  Doone,  who  is  twice  as  old  as  I  am,  being 
thirty-five  and  upward.  That  was  why  I  gave  the  token 
that  I  wished  to  see  you.  Master  Ridd.  They  pointed  out 
how  much  it  was  for  the  peace  of  all  the  family,  and  for 
mine  own  benefit;  but  I  would  not  listen  for  a  moment, 
though  the  Counselor  was  most  eloquent,  and  my  grand- 


222  LORNA  BOONE. 

father  begged  me  to  consider,  and  Carver  smiled  his  pleas- 
antest,  which  is  a  truly  frightful  thing.  Then  both  he  and 
his  crafty  father  were  for  using  force  with  me;  but  Sir 
Ensor  would  not  hear  of  it;  and  they  have  put  off  that 
extreme  until  he  shall  be  past  its  knowledge,  or  at  least 
beyond  preventing  it.  And  now  I  am  watched,  and  spied, 
and  followed,  and  half  my  little  liberty  seems  to  be  taken 
from  me.  I  could  not  be  here  speaking  with  you,  even  in 
my  own  nook  and  refuge,  but  for  the  aid,  and  skill,  and 
courage  of  dear  little  Gwenny  Carfax.  She  is  now  my 
chief  reliance,  and  through  her  alone  I  hope  to  baffle  all 
my  enemies,  since  others  have  forsaken  me.*' 

Tears  of  sorrow  and  reproach  were  lurking  in  her  soft 
dark  eyes,  until  in  fewest  words  I  told  her  that  my  seem- 
ing negligence  was  nothing  but  my  bitter  loss  and  wretched 
absence  far  away;  of  which  I  had  so  vainly  striven  to  give 
any  tidings  without  danger  to  her.  When  she  heard  all 
this,  and  saw  what  I  had  brought  from  London  (which  was 
nothing  less  than  a  ring  of  pearls  with  a  sapphire  in  the 
midst  of  them,  as  pretty  as  could  well  be  found),  she  let 
the  gentle  tears  flow  fast,  and  came  and  sat  so  close  beside 
me  that  1  trembled  like  a  folded  sheep  at  the  bleating  of 
her  lamb.  But  recovering  comfort  quickly,  without  more 
ado  I  raised  her  left  hand  and  observed  it  with  a  nice 
regard,  wondering  at  the  small  blue  veins,  and  curves,  and 
tapering  whiteness,  and  the  points  it  finished  with.  My 
wonder  seemed  to  please  her  much,  herself  so  well  accus- 
tomed to  it,  and  not  fond  of  watching  it.  And  then,  be- 
fore she  could  say  a  word,  or  guess  what  I  was  up  to,  as 
quick  as  ever  I  turned  hand  at  a  bout  of  wrestling,  on  her 
finger  was  my  ring — sapphire  for  the  veins  of  blue,  and 
pearls  to  match  white  fingers. 

"  Oh,  you  crafty  Master  Ridd! "  said  Lorna,  looking  up 
at  me,  and  blushing  now  a  far  brighter  blush  than  when 
she  spoke  of  Charlie;  ^'  I  thought  that  you  were  much  too 
simple  ever  to  do  this  sort  of  thing.  No  wonder  you  can 
catch  the  fish,  as  when  first  I  saw  you." 

"Have  I  caught  you,  little  fish?  Or  must  all  my  life 
,be  spent  in  hopeless  angling  for  you?" 

"Neither  one  nor  the  other,  John!  You  have  not 
caught  me  yet  altogether,  though  I  like  you  dearly,  John; 
and  if  you  will  only  keep  away,  I  shall  like  you  more  and 


JOHN  HAS  HOPE  OF  LORKA.  223 

more.     As  for  hopeless  angling,  John,  that  all  others  shall 
have  until  I  tell  you  otherwise." 

With  large  tears  in  her  eyes — tears  which  seemed  to  me 
to  rise  partly  from  her  want  to  love  me  with  the  power  of 
my  love — she  put  her  pure  bright  lips,  half  smiling,  half 
prone  to  reply  to  tears,  against  my  forehead  lined  with 
trouble,  doubt,  and  eager  longing.  And  then  she  drew 
my  ring  from  off  that  snowy  twig,  her  finger,  and  held  it 
out  to  me;  and  then,  seeing  how  my  face  was  falling, 
thrice  she  touched  it  with  her  lips,  and  sweetly  gave  it  back 
to  me.  **  John,  I  dare  not  take  it  now;  else  I  should  be 
cheating  you.  I  will  try  to  love  you  dearly,  even  as  you 
deserve  and  wish.  Keep  it  for  me  just  till  then.  Some- 
thing tells  me  I  shall  earn  it  in  a  very  little  time.  Perhaps 
you  will  be  sorry  then,  sorry  when  it  is  all  too  late,  to  be 
loved  by  such  as  I  am." 

What  could  I  do,  at  her  mournful  tone,  but  kiss  a 
thousand  times  the  hand  which  she  put  up  to  warn  me, 
and  vow  that  I  would  rather  die  with  one  assurance  of  her 
love,  than  without  it  live  forever  with  all  beside  that  the 
world  could  give?  Upon  this  she  looked  so  lovely,  with 
her  dark  eyelashes  trembling,  and  her  soft  eyes  full  of 
light,  and  the  color  of  clear  sunrise  mounting  on  her 
cheeks  and  brow,  that  I  was  forced  to  turn  away,  being 
overcome  with  beauty. 

*^  Dearest  darling,  love  of  my  life,"  I  whispered,  through 
her  clouds  of  hair;  *^how  long  must  I  wait  to  know — 
how  long  must  I  linger  doubting  whether  you  can  ever 
stoop  from  your  birth  and  wondrous  beauty  to  a  poor  coarse 
hind  like  me,  an  ignorant,  unlettered  yeoman " 

"  I  will  not  have  you  revile  yourself,"  said  Lorna,  very 
tenderly — jr.st  as  I  had  meant  to  make  her.  "  You  are 
not  rude  and  unlettered,  John.  You  know  a  great  deal 
more  than  I  do:  you  have  learned  both  Greek  and  Latin, 
as  you  told  me  long  ago,  and  you  have  been  at  the  very 
best  school  in  the  West  of  England.  None  of  us  but  my 
grandfather  and  the  Counselor  (who  is  a  great  scholar)  can 
compare  with  you  in  this.  And  though  I  have  laughed  at 
your  manner  of  speech,  I  only  laughed  in  fun,  John;  I 
never  meant  to  vex  you  by  it,  nor  knew  that  I  had  done  so." 

"  Naught  you  say  can  vex  me,  dear,"  1  answered,  as 
she  leaned  toward  me,  in  her  generous  sorrow;  ''unless 


224  LORNA  BOONE. 

you  say,  'Begone,  John  Ridd;  I  love  another  more  than 
you/  " 

''Then  I  shall  never  vex  you,  John — never,  I  mean,  by 
saying  that.     Now,  John,  if  you  please,  be  quiet " 

For  I  was  carried  away  so  much  by  hearing  her  call  me 
"John''  so  often,  and  the  music  of  her  voice,  and  the  way 
she  bent  toward  me,  and  the  shadow  of  soft  weeping  in 
the  sunlight  of  her  eyes,  that  some  of  my  great  hand  was 
creeping  in  a  manner  not  to  be  imagined,  and  far  less  ex- 
plained, toward  the  lithesome,  wholesome  curving  under- 
neath her  mantle-fold,  and  out  of  sight  and  harm,  as  I 
thought;  not  being  her  front  waist.  However,  I  was 
dashed  with  that,  and  pretended  not  to  mean  it;  only  to 
pluck  some  lady-fern,  whose  elegance  did  me  no  good. 

"  Now,  John!"  said  Lorna,  being  so  quick  that  not  even 
a  lover  could  cheat  her,  and  observing  my  confusion  more 
intently  than  she  need  have  done.  '^  Master  John  Ridd, 
it  is  high  time  for  you  to  go  home  to  your  mother.  I  love 
>tiur  mother  very  much  from  what  you  have  told  me  about 
her,  and  I  will  not  have  her  cheated." 

"If  you  truly  love  my  mother,"  said  I,  very  craftly, 
"  the  only  way  to  show  it  is  by  truly  loving  me." 

Upon  that  she  laughed  at  me  in  the  sweetest  manner, 
and  with  such  provoking  ways,  and  such  come-and-go  of 
glances,  and  beginning  of  quick  blushes,  which  she  tried 
to  laugh  away,  that  I  knew,  as  well  as  if  she  herself  had 
told  me,  by  some  knowledge  (void  of  reasoning,  and  the 
surer  for  it),  I  knew  quite  well,  while  all  my  heart  was 
burning  hot  within  me,  and  mine  eyes  were  shy  of  hers, 
and  her  eyes  were  shy  of  mine;  for  certain  and  forever  this 
I  knew — as  in  a  glory — that  Lorna  Doone  had  now  begun 
and  would  go  on  to  love  me. 


REAPING  LEADS  TO  REVELING.  225 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

REAPING   LEADS  TO   REVELING. 

Although  I  was  under  interdict  for  two  months  from 
my  darling — "one  for  your  sake,  one  for  mine/'  she  had 
whispered  with  her  head  withdrawn,  yet  not  so  very  far 
from  me — lighter  heart  was  not  on  Exmoor  than  I  bore 
for  half  the  time,  and  even  for  three-quarters.  For  she 
was  safe;  I  knew  that  daily  by  the  mode  of  signals,  well- 
contrived  between  us  now,  on  the  strength  of  our  experi- 
ence. "  I  have  nothing  now  to  fear,  John,"  she  had  said 
to  me,  as  we  parted;  **it  is  true  that  I  am  spied  and 
watched,  but  Gwenny  is  too  keen  for  them.  While  I  have 
my  grandfather  to  prevent  all  violence,  and  little  Gwenny 
to  keep  watch  on  those  who  try  to  watch  me,  and  you 
above  all  others,  John,  ready  at  a  moment,  if  the  worst 
comes  to  the  worst — this  neglected  Lorna  Doone  was  never 
in  such  case  before.  Therefore,  do  not  squeeze  my  hand, 
John;  I  am  safe  without  it,  and  you  do  not  know  your 
strength. "" 

Ah,  I  knew  my  strength  right  well.  Hill  and  valley 
scarcely  seemed  to  be  step  and  landing  for  me;  fiercest 
cattle  I  would  play  with,  making  them  go  backward,  and 
afraid  of  hurting  them,  like  John  Fry  with  his  terrier;  even 
rooted  trees  seemed  to  me  but  as  sticks  I  could  smite  down, 
except  for  my  love  of  everything.  The  love  of  all  things 
was  upon  me,  and  a  softness  to  them  all,  and  a  sense  of 
having  something  even  such  as  they  had. 

Then  the  golden  harvest  came,  waving  on  the  broad  hill- 
side, and  nestling  in  the  quiet  nooks  scooped  from  out  the 
fringe  of  wood — a  wealth  of  harvest  such  as  never  gladdened 
ail  our  country-side  since  my  father  ceased  to  reap,  and  his 
sickle  hung  to  rust.  There  had  not  been  a  man  on 
Exmoor  fit  to  work  that  reaping-hook  since  the  time  its 
owner  fell,  in  the  prime  of  life  and  strength,   before  a 


226  LOnNA  nooNB. 

sterner  reaper.  But  now  I  took  it  from  the  wall,  where 
mother  proudly  stored  it,  while  she  watched  me,  hardly 
knowing  whether  she  should  smile  or  cry. 

All  the  parish  was  assembled  in  our  upper  court-yard; 
for  we  were  to  open  the  harvest  that  year,  as  had  been 
settled  with  Farmer  Nicholas,  and  with  Jasper  Kebby, 
who  held  the  third  or  little  farm.  We  started  in  proper 
order,  therefore,  as  our  piactice  is;  first,  the  parson, 
Josiah  Bowden,  wearing  his  gown  and  cassock,  with  the 
parish  Bible  in  his  hand,  and  a  sickle  strapped  behind 
him.  As  he  strode  along  well  and  stoutly,  being  a  man  of 
substance,  all  our  family  came  next,  I  leading  mother  with 
one  hand,  in  the  other  bearing  my  father's  hook,  and  with 
a  loaf  of  our  own  bread  and  a  keg  of  cider  upon  my  back. 
Behind  us  Annie  and  Lizzie  walked,  wearing  wreaths  of 
corn-flowers,  set  out  very  prettily,  such  as  mother  would 
have  worn  if  she  had  been  a  farmer's  wife  instead  of  a 
farmer's  widow.  Being  as  she  was,  she  had  no  adornment, 
except  that  her  widow's  hood  was  off,  and  her  hair  allowed 
to  flow,  as  if  she  had  been  a  maiden;  and  very  rich  bright 
hair  it  was,  in  spite  of  all  her  troubles. 

After  us  the  maidens  came,  milkmaids  and  the  rest  of 
them,  with  Betty  Mux  worthy  at  their  head,  scolding  even 
now,  because  they  would  not  walk  fitly.  But  they  only 
laughed  at  her;  and  she  knew  it  was  no  good  to  scold, 
with  all  the  men  behind  them. 

Then  the  Suowes  came  trooping  forward;  Farmer  Nich- 
olas in'the  middle,  walking  as  he  would  rather  walk  to  a 
wheat-field  of  his  own,  yet  content  to  follow  lead,  because 
he  knew  himself  the  leader;  and  signing  every  now  and 
then  to  the  people  here  and  there,  as  if  I  were  nobody. 
But  to  see  his  three  great  daughters,  strong  and  handsome 
wenches,  making  upon  either  side,  as  if  somebody  would 
ran  off  with  them — this  was  the  very  thing  that  taught  me 
how  to  value  Lorna,  and  her  pure  simplicity. 

After  the  Snowes  came  Jasper  Kebby,  with  his  wife  new- 
married;  and  a  very  honest  pair  they  were,  upon  only  a 
hundred  acres,  and  a  right  of  common.  After  these  the 
men  came  hotly,  without  decent  order,  trying  to  spy  the 
girls  in  front,  and  make  good  jokes  about  them,  at  which 
their  wives  laughed  heartily,  being  jealous  when  alone, 
perhaps.     And  after  these  men  and  their  wives  came  all 


REAPING  LEADS  TO  REVELING.  227 

the  children  toddling,  picking  flowers  by  the  way,  and 
chattering  and  asking  questions,  as  the  children  will. 
There  must  have  been  three-score  of  us,  take  one  with  an- 
other; and  the  lane  was  full  of  people.  When  we  were 
come  to  the  big  field-gate,  where  the  first  sickle  was  to  be. 
Parson  Bowden  heaved  up  the  rail  with  the  sleeves  of  his 
gown  done  green  with  it;  and  he  said  that  everybody  might 
hear  him,  though  his  breath  was  short,  "  In  the  name  of 
the  Lord,  Amen!" 

"Amen!  So  be  it!'' cried  the  clerk,  who  was  far  be- 
hind, being  only  a  shoe-maker. 

Then  Parson  Bowden  read  some  verses  from  the  parish 
Bible,  telling  us  to  lift  up  our  eyes,  and  look  upon  the 
fields  already  white  to  harvest;  and  then  he  laid  the  Bible 
down  on  the  square  head  of  the  gate-post,  and,  despite  his 
gown  and  cassock  three  good  swipes  he  cut  of  corn,  and 
laid  them  right  end  onward.  All  this  time  the  rest  were 
huddling  outside  the  gate  and  along  the  lane,  not  daring 
to  interfere  with  parson,  but  whispering  how  well  he  did  it. 

When  he  had  stowed  the  corn  like  that,  mother  entered, 
leaning  on  me,  and  we  both  said,  '*  Thank  the  Lord  for  all 
his  mercies,  and  these  the  first  fruits  of  his  hand!"  And 
then  the  clerk  gave  out  a  psalm,  verse  by  verse,  done  very 
well;  although  he  sneezed  in  the  midst  of  it,  from  a  beard 
of  wheat  thrust  up  his  nose  by  the  rival  cobbler  at  Bren- 
don.  And  when  the  psalm  was  sung,  so  strongly  that  the 
foxgloves  on  the  bank  were  shaking,  like  a  chime  of  bells, 
at  it,  Parson  took  a  stoop  of  cider,  and  we  all  fell  to  at 
reaping. 

Of  course  I  mean  the  men,  not  women,  although  I  know 
that  up  the  country  women  are  allowed  to  reap;  and  right 
well  they  reap  it,  keeping  row  for  row  with  men,  comely, 
and  in  due  order,  yet,  meseems,  the  men  must  ill  attend 
to  their  own  reaping-hooks,  in  fear  lest  the  other  cut  them- 
selves, being  the  weaker  vessel.  But  in  our  part  women 
do  what  seems  their  proper  business,  following  well  behind 
the  men,  out  of  harm  of  the  swinging-hook,  and  stooping 
with  their  breasts  and  arms  up  they  catch  the  swaths  of 
corn,  where  the  reapers  cast  them,  and  tucking  them 
together  tightly  with  a  wisp  laid  under  them,  this  they 
fetch  around  and  twist,  with  a  knee  to  keep  it  close;  and 
lo,  there  is  a  goodly  sheaf,  ready  to  set  up  in  stocks!  After 


228  MRNA  BOONE. 

these  the  children  come,  gathering  each  for  his  little  self, 
if  the  farmer  be  right-minded,  until  each  hath  a  bundle 
made  as  big  as  himself  and  longer,  and  tumbles  now  and 
again  with  it,  in  the  deeper  part  of  the  stubble. 

We,  the  men,  kept  marching  onward  down  the  flank  of 
the  yellow  wall,  with  knees  bent  wide,  and  left  arm  bowed, 
and  right  arm  flashing  steel.  Each  man  in  his  several 
place,  keeping  down  the  rig  or  chine  on  the  right  side  of 
the  reaper  in  front,  and  the  left  of  the  man  that  followed 
him;  each  making  farther  sweep  and  inroad  into  the  golden 
breadth  and  depth,  each  casting  leftward  his  rich  clearance 
on  his  foregoer's  double  track. 

So  like  half  a  wedge  of  wild  fowl,  to  and  fro  we  swept 
the  field;  and  when  to  either  hedge  we  came,  sickles  wanted 
whetting,  and  throats  required  moistening,  and  backs  were 
in  need  of  easing,  and  every  man  had  much  to  say,  and 
women  wanted  praising.  Then  all  returned  to  the  other 
end,  with  reaping-hooks  beneath  our  arms,  and  dogs  left  to 
mind  jackets. 

But  now,  will  you  believe  me  well,  or  will  you  only  laugh 
at  me?  For  even  in  the  world  of  wheat,  when  deep 
among  the  varnished  crispness  of  the  jointed  stalks,  and 
below  the  feathered  yielding  of  the  graceful  heads,  even  as 
I  gripped  the  swaths  and  swept  the  sickle  round  them, 
even  as  I  flung  them  by  to  rest  on  brother  stubble,  through 
the  whirling  yellow  world,  and  eagerness  of  reaping,  came 
the  vision  of  my  love,  as  with  downcast  eyes  she  wondered 
at  my  power  of  passion.  And  then  the  sweet  remembrance 
glowed,  brighter  than  the  sun  through  wheat,  tlirough  my 
very  depth  of  heart,  of  how  she  raised  those  beaming  eyes, 
and  ripened  in  my  breast  rich  hope.  Even  now  I  could 
descry,  like  high  waves  in  the  distance,  the  rounded  heads 
and  folded  shadows  of  the  wood  of  Bagwortliy.  Perhaps 
she  was  walking  in  the  valley,  and  softly  gazing  up  at 
them.  Oh,  to  be  a  bird  just  there!  I  could  see  a  bright 
mist  hanging  just  above  the  Doone  Glen.  Perhaps  it  was 
shedding  its  drizzle  upon  her.  Oh,  to  be  a  drop  of  rain! 
The  very  breeze  which  bowed  the  harvest  to  my  bosom 
gently  might  have  come  direct  from  Lorna,  with  her  sweet 
voice  laden.  Ah,  the  flaws  of  air  that  wander  where  they 
will  around  her,  fan  her  bright  cheek,  play  with  lashes, 
even  revel  in  her  hair  and  reveal  her  beauties — man  is  bu' 
a  breath,  we  know;  would  I  were  suck  breat^  as  that! 


REAPING  LEADS  TO  REVELING.  229 

But  confound  it,  while  I  ponder,  with  delicious  dreams 
suspended,  with  my  right  arm  hanging  frustrate  and  the 
giant  sickle  drooped,  with  my  left  arm  bowed  for  clasping 
something  more  germane  than  wheat,  and  my  eyes  not 
minding  business,  but  intent  on  distant  woods — confound 
it,  what  are  the  men  about,  and  why  am  I  left  vaporing? 
They  have  taken  advantage  of  me,  the  rogues!  They  are 
gone  to  the  hedge  for  the  cider-jars;  they  have  had  up  the 
sledd  of  bread  and  meat,  quite  softly  over  the  stubble,  and 
if  I  can  believe  my  eyes  (so  dazed  with  Lorna's  image), 
they  are  sitting  down  to  an  excellent  dinner  before  the 
church  clock  has  gone  eleven! 

*' John  Fry,  you  big  villain!"  I  cried,  with  John  hang- 
ing up  in  the  air  by  the  scuff  of  his  neckcloth,  but  holding 
still  by  his  knife  and  fork,  and  a  goose-leg  in  between  his 
lips,  ''John  Fry,  what  mean  you  by  this,  sir?" 

"  Latt  me  dowun,  or  I  can't  tell  'q"  John  answered, 
with  some  difficulty.  So  I  let  him  come  down,  and  I  must 
confess  that  he  had  reason  on  his  side.  "  Plaise  your  wor- 
ship"— John  called  me  so  ever  since  I  returned  from 
London,  firmly  believing  that  the  King  had  made  me  a 
magistrate  at  least,  though  I  was  to  keep  it  secret — "  us 
zeed  as  how  your  worship  were  took  with  thinkin'  of  King's 
business  in  the  middle  of  the  whate-rigg;  and  so  us  zed, 
'  Latt  un  coom  to  his  zell,  us  had  better  zave  taime,  by 
takking  our  dinner;'  and  here  us  be,  plaise  your  worship, 
and  hopps  no  offense  with  thick  iron  spoon  full  of  vried 
taties." 

I  was  glad  enough  to  accept  the  ladleful  of  fried  batatas, 
and  to  make  the  best  of  things,  which  is  generally  done  by 
letting  men  have  their  own  way.  Therefore  I  managed  to 
dine  with  them,  although  it  was  so  early. 

For  according  to  all  that  1  can  find,  in  a  long  life  and  a 
varied  one,  twelve  o'clock  is  the  real  time  for  a  man  to 
have  his  dinner.  Then  the  sun  is  at  his  noon,  calling  halt 
to  look  around,  and  then  the  plants  and  leaves  are  turning, 
each  with  a  little  leisure  time,  before  the  work  of  the  after- 
noon. Then  is  the  balance  of  east  and  west,  and  then  the 
right  and  left  side  of  a  man  are  in  due  proportion,  and 
contribute  fairly  with  harmonious  fluids.  And  the  health 
of  this  mode  of  life  and  its  reclaiming  virtue  are  well  set 
forth  in  our  ancient  rhyme. 


230  LORNA  BOONE. 

"  Sunrise,  breakfast;  sun  liigh,  dinner; 
Sundown,  sup;  makes  a  saint  of  a  sinner." 

Whish,  the  wheat  falls!  Whirl  again;  ye  have  had  good 
dinners;  give  your  master  and  mistress  plenty  to  supply 
another  year.  And  in  truth  we  did  reap  well  and  fairly 
through  the  whole  of  that  afternoon,  I  not  only  keeping 
lead  but  keeping  the  men  up  to  it.  We  got  through  a 
matter  of  ten  acres  ere  the  sun  between  the  shocks  broke 
his  light  on  wheaten  plumes,  then  hung  his  red  cloak  on 
the  clouds  and  fell  into  gray  slumber. 

Seeing  this,  we  wiped  our  sickles,  and  our  breasts  and 
foreheads,  and  soon  were  on  the  homeward  road,  looking 
forward  to  good  supper. 

Of  course  all  the  reapers  came  at  night  to  the  harvest- 
supper,  and  Parson  Bowden  to  say  the  grace  as  well  as  to 
help  to  carve  for  us.  And  some  help  was  needed  there,  I  can 
well  assure  you,  for  the  reapers  have  brave  appetites,  and 
most  of  their  wives  having  babies,  were  forced  to  eat 
as  a  duty.  Neither  failed  they  of  this  duty;  cut  and  come 
again  was  the  order  of  the  evening,  as  it  had  been  of  the 
day;  and  I  had  no  time  to  ask  questions,  but  help  meat 
and  ladle  gravy.  All  the  while  our  darling  Annie,  with 
her  sleeves  tucked  up,  and  her  comely  figure  panting,  was 
running  about  with  a  bucket  of  taties  mashed  with  lard 
and  cabbage.  Even  Lizzie  had  left  her  books,  and  was 
serving  out  beer  and  cider;  while  mother  helped  plum- 
pudding  largely  on  pewter  plates  with  the  mutton.  And 
all  the  time  Betty  Muxworthy  was  grunting  in  and  out 
everywhere,  not  having  space  to  scold  even,  but  changing 
the  dishes,  serving  the  meat,  poking  the  fire,  and  cooking 
more.  But  John  Fry  would  not  stir  a  peg,  except  with 
his  knife  and  fork,  having  all  the  airs  of  a  visitor,  and  his 
wife  to  keep  him  eating,  till  I  thought  there  would  be  no 
end  of  it. 

Then  having  eaten  all  they  could,  they  prepared  them- 
selves, with  one  accord,  for  the  business  now  of  drinking. 
But  first  they  lifted  the  neck  of  corn,  dressed  with  ribbons 
gayly,  and  set  it  upon  the  mantel-piece,  each  man  with  his 
horn  a~froth;  and  then  they  sung  a  song  about  it,  everyone 
shouting  in  the  chorus  louder  than  harvest  thunder-storm. 
Some  were  in  the  middle  of  one  verse,  and  some  at  the  end 
of  the  next  one;  yet  somehow  all  managed  to  get  together 


REAPING  LEADS  TO  REVELING.  231 

in  the  mighty  roar  of  the  burden.  And  if  any  farmer  up 
the  country  would  like  to  know  Exmoor  harvest-song  as 
sung  in  my  time,  and  will  be  sung  long  after  I  am  garnered 
home,  lo,  here  I  set  it  down  for  him,  omitting  only  the 
dialect,  which  perchance  might  puzzle  him. 

EXMOOR  HARVEST-SONG. 

1. 

The  corn,  oh  the  corn,  'tis  the  ripening  of  the  corn! 
Go  unto  the  door,  my  lad,  and  look  beneath  the  moon, 
Thou  canst  see,  beyond  the  wood-rick,  how  it  is  yelloon: 

*Tis  the  harvesting  of  wheat,  and  the  barley  must  be  shorn, 

{Chorus.) 

The  corn,  oh  the  corn,  and  the  yellow,  mellow  cornl 
Here's  to  the  corn,  with  the  cups  upon  the  board! 

We've  been  reaping  all  the  day,  and  we'll  reap  again  the  mom. 
And  fetch  it  home  to  mow  yard,  and  then  we'll  thank  the  Lord. 

2. 

The  wheat,  oh  the  wheat,  'tis  the  lipening  of  the  wheatl 
All  the  day  it  has  been  hanging  down  its  heavy  head. 
Bowing  over  on  our  bosoms  with  a  beard  of  red: 

'Tis  the  harvest,  and  the  value  makes  the  labor  sweet. 

{Chorus.) 

The  wheat,  oh  the  wheat,  and  the  golden,  golden  wheat! 

Here's  to  the  wheat,  with  the  loaves  upon  the  board! 
We've  been  reaping  all  the  day,  and  we  never  will  be  beat, 

But  fetch  it  all  to  mow  yard,  and  then  we'll  thank  the  Lord. 

3 

The  barley,  oh  the  barley,  and  the  barley  is  in  prime! 
All  the  day  it  has  been  rustling  with  its  bristles  brown. 
Waiting  with  its  beard  a  bowing,  till  it  can  be  mown! 

'Tis  the  harvest,  and  the  barley  must  abide  its  time. 

{Choi'us.) 

The  barley,  oh  the  barley,  and  the  barley  ruddy  brown! 

Here's  to  the  barley,  with  the  beer  upon  the  board! 
We'll  go  a- mowing,  soon  as  ever  all  the  wheat  is  down; 

When  all  is  in  the  mow-yard,  we'll  stop  and  thank  the  Lord. 

4. 

The  oats,  oh  the  oats,  'tis  the  ripening  of  the  oats! 

All  the  day  they  have  been  dancing  with  their  flakes  of  white, 
Waiting  for  the  girding-hook,  to  the  nags'  delight: 

Tis  the  harvest,  let  them  dangle  in  their  skirted  coats. 


232  LORNA.DOONE, 

{Chorus.) 

The  oats,  oh  the  oats,  and  the  silver,  silver  oats! 

Here's  to  the  oats  with  the  back -stone  on  the  board! 
We'll  go  among  them  when  the  barley  has  been  laid  in  rotes: 

When  all  is  home  to  mow-yard,  we'll  kneel  and  thank  the  Lord. 

5. 

The  corn,  oh  the  corn,  and  the  blessing  of  the  corn! 

Come  unto  the  door,  my  lads,  and  look  beneath  the  moon, 
We  can  see,  on  hill  and  valley,  how  it  is  yelloon, 

With  a  breadth  of  glory,  as  when  our  Lord  was  born. 

{Chorus.) 

The  corn,  oh  the  corn,  and  the  yellow,  mellow  corn! 

Thanks  for  the  corn,  with  our  bread  upon  the  board! 
So  shall  we  acknowledge  it,  before  we  reap  the  morn, 

With  our  hands  to  heaven,  and  our  knees  unto  the  Lord. 

Now  we  sung  this  song  very  well  the  first  time,  having 
the  parish  choir  to  lead  us,  and  the  clarionet,  and  the 
parson  to  give  us  the  time  with  his  cup;  and  we  sung  it 
again  the  second  time,  not  so  but  what  you  might  praise  it 
(if  you  had  been  with  us  all  the  evening),  although  the 
parson  was  gone  then,  and  the  clerk  not  fit  to  compare  with 
him  in  the  matter  of  keeping  time.  But  when  that  song 
was  in  its  third  singing,  I  defy  any  man  (however  sober)  to 
have  made  out  one  verse  from  the  other,  or  even  the 
burden  from  the  verses,  inasmuch  as  every  man  present, 
ay,  and  women,  too,  sung  as  became  convenient  to  them, 
in  utterance  both  of  words  and  tune. 

And  in  truth  there  was  much  excuse  for  them;  because 
it  was  a  noble  harvest,  fit  to  thank  the  Lord  for,  without 
his  thinking  us  hypocrites.  For  we  had  more  land  in  wheat 
that  year  than  ever  we  had  before,  and  twice  the  crop  to  the 
acre;  and  I  could  not  help  now  and  then  remembering,  in  the 
midst  of  the  merriment,  how  my  father  in  the  church-yard 
yonder  would  have  gloried  to  behold  it.  And  my  mother, 
who  had  left  us  now,  happening  to  return  just  then,  being 
called  to  have  her  health  drunk  (for  the  twentieth  time  at 
least),  I  knew  by  the  sadness  in  her  eyes  that  she  was  think- 
ing just  aa  I  was.  Presently,  therefore,  I  slipped  away 
from  the  noise,  and  mirth  and  smoking  (although  of  that  last 
there  was  not  much,  except  from  Farmer  Nicholas),  and 
crossing  the  court-yard  in  the  moonlight,  I  went  just  to 
cool  myself,  as  far  as  my  father's  tombstone. 


AJSfm£J  GETS  THE  BEST  OF  IT.  233 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

ANNIE  GETS  THE  BEST  OF  IT. 

I  HAD  long  outgrown  unwholesome  feeling  as  to  my 
father's  death,  and  so  had  Annie;  though  Lizzie  (who 
must  have  loved  him  least)  still  entertained  some  evil  will, 
and  longing  for  a  punishment.  Therefore  I  was  surprised 
(and,  indeed,  startled  would  not  be  too  much  to  say,  the 
moon  being  somewhat  fleecy)  to  see  our  Annie  sitting  there 
as  motionless  as  the  tombstone,  and  with  all  her  best  fal- 
lals upon  her,  after  stowing  away  the  dishes. 

My  nerves,  however,  are  good  and  strong,  except  at  least 
in  love  matters,  wherein  they  always  fail  me,  and  when  I 
meet  with  witches;  and  therefore  I  went  up  to  Annie, 
although  she  looked  so  white  and  pure;  for  I  had  seen  her 
before  with  those  things  on,  and  it  struck  me  who  she  was. 

**  What  are  you  doing  here,  Annie?"  I  inquired,  rather 
sternly,  being  vexed  with  her  for  having  gone  so  very  near 
to  frighten  me. 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  said  our  Annie,  shortly.  And  indeed 
it  was  truth  enough  for  a  woman.  Not  that  I  dare  to  be- 
lieve that  women  are  such  liars  as  men  say;  only  tliat  1 
mean  they  often  see  things  round  the  corner,  and  know 
not  which  is  which  of  it.  And  indeed  I  never  have 
known  a  woman  (though  right  enough  in  their  meaning) 
purely  and  perfectly  true  and  transparent,  except  only  my 
Lorna;  and  even  so,  I  might  not  have  loved  her,  if  she 
had  been  ugly. 

"Why,  how  so?"  said  I;  **  Miss  Annie,  what  business 
have  you  here,  doing  nothing  at  this  time  of  night?  And 
leaving  me  with  all  the  trouble  to  entertain  our  guests." 

"  You  seem  not  to  me  to  be  doing  it,  John,"  Annie 
answered,  softly;  **  what  business  have  you  here  doing 
nothing  at  this  time  of  night?" 


234  LORNA  DOONE, 

I  was  taken  so  aback  with  this,  and  the  extreme  im- 
pertinence of  it,  from  a  mere  young  girl  like  Annie,  that 
I  turned  round  to  march  aw  y  and  have  nothing  more  to 
say  to  her.  But  she  jumped  up  and  caught  me  by  the 
hand,  and  threw  herself  upon  my  bosom,  with  her  face  all 
wet  with  tears. 

"  Oh,  John,  I  will  tell  you — I  will  tell  you.  Only  don't 
be  angry,  John.'' 

"Angry!  no  indeed,"  said  I;  "what  right  have  I  to  be 
angry  with  you  because  you  have  your  secrets?  Every  chit 
of  a  girl  thinks  now  that  she  has  a  right  to  her  own 
secrets." 

"And  you  have  none  of  your  own,  John;  of  course,  you 
have  none  of  your  own?    All  your  going  out  at  night " 

"  We  will  not  quarrel  here,  poor  Annie,"  I  answered, 
with  some  loftiness;  "there  are  many  things  upon  my 
mind  which  girls  can  have  no  notion  of." 

"And  so  there  are  upon  mine,  John.  Oh,  John,  I  will 
tell  you  everything,  if  you  will  look  at  me  kindly,  and 
promise  to  forgive  me.     Oh,  I  am  so  miserable!" 

Now  this,  though  she  was  behaving  so  badly,  moved  me 
much  toward  her,  especially  as  I  longed  to  know  what  she 
had  to  tell  me.  Therefore  I  allowed  her  to  coax  me,  and 
to  kiss  me,  and  to  lead  me  away  a  little  as  far  as  the  old 
yew-tree;  for  she  would  not  tell  me  where  she  was. 

But  even  in  the  shadow  there  she  was  very  long  before 
beginning,  and  seemed  to  have  two  minds  about  it,  or 
rather  perhaps  a  dozen;  and  she  laid  her  cheek  against  the 
tree,  and  sobbed  till  it  was  pitiful;  and  I  knew  what 
mother  would  say  to  her,  for  spoiling  her  best  frock  so. 

"Now  will  you  stop?"  I  said  at  last,  harder  than  I 
meant  it;  for  1  knew  that  she  would  go  on  all  night,  if  any 
one  encouraged  her;  and  though  not  well  acquainted  with 
women,  I  understood  my  sisters;  or  else  I  must  be  a  born 
fool — except,  of  course,  that  I  never  professed  to  under- 
stand Eliza. 

"  Yes,  I  will  stop,"  said  Annie,  panting;  "you  are  very 
hard  on  me,  John;  but  I  know  you  mean  it  for  the  best. 
If  somebody  else — I  am  sure  I  don't  know  who,  and  have 
no  right  to  know,  no  doubt,  but  she  must  be  a  wicked 
thing — if  somebody  else  had  been  taken  so  with  a  pain  all 
round  the  heart,  John,  and  no  power  of  telling  it,  perhaps 


ANmE  GETS  THE  BEST  OF  IT.  235 

you  would  have  coaxed  and  kissed  her,  and  come  a  little 
nearer,  and  made  opportunity  to  be  very  loving. '^ 

Now  this  was  so  exactly  what  I  had  tried  to  do  to  Lorna, 
that  my  breath  was  almost  taken  away  at  Annie's  so 
describing  it.  For  a  while  I  could  not  say  a  word,  but  won- 
dered if  she  were  a  witch,  which  had  never  been  in  our 
family:  and  then,  all  of  a  sudden,  I  saw  the  way  to  beat 
her,  with  the  devil  at  my  elbow." 

"  From  your  knowledge  of  these  things,  Annie,  you  must 
have  had  them  done  to  you.  I  demand  to  know  this  very 
moment  who  has  taken  such  liberties." 

**  Then,  John,  you  shall  never  know,  if  you  ask  in  that 
manner.  Besides,  It  was  no  liberty  in  the  least  at  all. 
Cousins  have  a  right  to  do  things — and  when  they  are  one's 

godfather "     Here    Annie    stopped    quite    suddenly, 

having  so  betrayed  herself,  but  met  me  in  the  full  moon- 
light, being  resolved  to  face  it  out,  with  a  good  face  put 
upon  it. 

"  Alas,  I  feared  it  would  come  to  this,"  I  answered  very 
sadly;  *'  I  know  he  has  been  here  many  a  time,  without 
showing  himself  to  me.  There  is  nothing  meaner  than  for 
a  man  to  sneak,  and  steal  a  young  maiden's  heart,  without 
her  people  knowing  it." 

"You  are  not  doing  anything  of  that  sort  yourself,  then, 
dear,  John,  are  you? 

"Only  a  common  highwayman!"  I  answered,  without 
heeding  her;  "  a  man  without  an  acre  of  his  own,  and 
liable  to  hang  upon  any  common,  and  no  other  right  of 
common  over  it " 

"  John,"  said  my  sister,  "  are  the  Doones  privileged  not 
to  be  hanged  upon  common  land?" 

At  this  I  was  so  thunderstruck  that  I  leaped  in  the  air 
like  a  shot  rabbit,  and  rushed  as  hard  as  I  could  through 
the  gate  and  across  the  yard,  and  back  into  the  kitchen; 
and  there  I  asked  Farmer  Nicholas  Snowe  to  give  me  some 
tobacco,  and  to  lend  me  a  spare  pipe. 

This  he  did  with  a  grateful  manner,  being  now  some 
five- fourths  gone;  and  so  I  smoked  the  very  first  pipe  that 
ever  had  entered  my  lips  till  then;  and  beyond  a  doubt  it 
did  me  good,  and  spread  my  heart  at  leisure. 

Meanwhile  the  reapers  were  mostly  gone,  to  be  up  be- 
times in  the  morning;  and  some  were  led  by  their  wives; 


^36  LORNA  Doom, 

and  some  had  to  lead  their  wives  tliemselves;  according  to 
tlie  capacity  of  man  and  wife  respectively.  But  Betty 
was  as  lively  as  ever,  bustling  about  with  every  one,  and 
looking  out  for  the  chance  of  groats,  which  the  better  off 
might  be  free  with.  And  over  the  kneading-pan  next  day 
she  dropped  three-and-sixpence  out  of  her  pocket;  and 
Lizzie  could  not  tell  for  her  life  how  much  more  might 
have  been  in  it. 

Now  by  the  time  I  had  almost  finished  smoking  that 
pipe  of  tobacco,  and  wondering  at  myself  for  having  so 
despised  it  hitherto,  and  making  up  my  mind  to  have  an- 
other trial  to-morrow  night,  it  began  to  occur  to  me  that 
although  dear  Annie  had  behaved  so  very  badly  and  rudely, 
and  almost  taken  my  breath  away  with  the  suddenness  of 
her  allusion,  yet  it  was  not  kind  of  me  to  leave  her  out 
there  at  that  time  of  night  all  alone,  and  in  such  distress. 
Any  of  the  reapers  going  home  might  be  gotten  so  far 
beyond  fear  of  ghosts  as  to  venture  into  the  church-yard; 
and  although  they  would  know  a  great  deal  better  than  to 
insult  a  sister  of  mine  when  sober,  there  was  no  telling  what 
they  might  do  in  their  present  state  of  rejoicing.  More- 
over, it  was  only  right  that  I  should  learn,  for  Lorna's  sake, 
how  far  Annie  or  any  one  else  had  penetrated  our  secret. 

Therefore  I  went  forth  at  once,  bearing  my  pipe  in  a 
skillful  manner,  as  I  had  seen  Farmer  Nicholas  do;  and 
marking,  with  a  new  kind  of  pleasure,  how  the  rings  and 
wreaths  of  smoke  hovered  and  fluttered  in  the  moonlight, 
like  a  lark  upon  his  carol.  Poor  Annie  was  gone  back 
again  to  our  father's  grave;  and  there  she  sat  upon  the 
turf,  sobbing  very  gently,  and  not  wishing  to  trouble  any 
one.  So  I  raised  her  tenderly,  and  made  much  of  her,  and 
consoled  her,  lor  I  could  not  scold  her  there;  and  perhaps 
after  all  she  was  not  to  be  blamed  so  much  as  Tom  Faggus 
himself  was.  Annie  was  very  grateful  to  me,  and  kissed 
me  many  times,  and  begged  my  pardon  ever  so  often  for 
her  rudeness  to  me.  And  then,  having  gone  so  far  with 
it,  and  finding  me  so  complaisant,  she  must  needs  try  to 
go  a  little  further,  and  to  lead  me  away  from  her  own 
affairs,  and  into  mine  concerning  Lorna.  But  although  it 
was  clever  enough  of  her,  she  was  not  deep  enough  for  me 
there;  and  I  soon  discovered  that  she  knew  nothing,  not 
even  the  name  of  my  darling;  but  only  suspected  from 


AirmE  GETS  THE  BEST  OF  It.  237 

things  she  had  seen  and  put  together  like  a  woman.  Upon 
this  I  brought  her  back  again  to  Tom  Faggus  and  his 
doings. 

"  My  poor  Annie,  have  you  really  promised  him  to  be 
his  wife?" 

"  Then  after  all  you  ha^'^  :io  reason,  John — no  particu- 
lar reason,  I  mean — for  slighting  poor  Sally  Snowe  so?" 

"Without  even  asking  mother  or  me!  Oh,  Annie,  it 
was  wrong  of  you  ?  " 

"But,  darling,  you  know  that  mother  wishes  you  so 
much  to  marry  Sally;  and  I  am  sure  you  could  have  her 
to-morrow.     She  dotes  on  the  very  ground " 

"  I  dare  say  he  tells  you  that,  Annie,  that  he  dotes  on 
the  ground  you  walk  upon — but  did  you  believe  him, 
child?" 

"  You  may  believe  me,  I  assure  you,  John;  and  half  the 
farm  to  be  settled  upon  her  after  the  old  man's  time;  and 
though  she  gives  herself  little  airs,  it  is  only  done  to  entice 
you ;  she  has  the  very  best  hand  in  the  dairy,  John,  and 
the  lightest  at  a  turnover  cake " 

"  Now,  Annie,  don't  talk  nonsense  so.  I  wish  just  to 
know  the  truth  about  you  and  Tom  Faggus.  Do  you  mean 
to  marry  him?" 

"  I  to  marry  before  my  brother,  and  leave  him  with  none 
to  take  care  of  him!  Who  can  do  him  a  red  deer  collop, 
except  Sally  herself,  as  I  can?  Come  home,  dear,  at  once, 
and  I  will  do  you  one;  for  you  never  ate  a  morsel  of  supper, 
with  all  the  people  you  had  to  attend  upon." 

This  was  true  enough;  and  seeing  no  chance  of  any 
thing  more  than  cross  questions  aiid  crooked  purposes,  at 
which  a  girl  was  sure  to  boat  me,  I  even  allowed  her  to 
lead  me  home,  with  the  thoughts  of  [\\}e  collop  uppermost. 
But  I  never  counted  upon  being  beat^  so  thoroughly  as  I 
was;  for  knowing  me  now  to  be  off  my  guard,  the  young 
hussy  stopped  at  the  farm-yard  gate,  as  if  with  a  brier  en- 
tangling her;  and  while  I  was  stooping  to  take  it  away; 
she  looked  me  full  in  the  face  by  the  moonlight,  and  jerked 
out  quite  suddenly, 

"Can  your  love  do  a  collop,  John?" 

"No,  I  should  hope  not,"  I  answered,  rashly;  "she  is 
not  a  mere  cook-maid,  I  should  hope." 

"  She  is  not  half  so  pretty  as  Sally  Snowe;  I  will  answer 
for  that,"  said  Annie. 


$38  LOttNA  DOONE. 

"  She  is  ten  thousand  times  as  pretty  as  ten  thousand 
Sally  Snowes/'  I  replied,  with  great  indignation. 

**  Oh,  but  look  at  Sally's  eyes!"  cried  my  sister 
rapturously. 

**Look  at  Lorna  Doone's,"  said  I;  *'and  you  would 
never  look  again  at  Sally's." 

*' Oh,  Lorna  Doone,  Lorna  Doone!"  exclaimed  our 
Annie,  half  frightened,  yet  clapping  her  hands  with 
triumph  at  having  found  me  out  so:  *'  Lorna  Doone  is  the 
lovely  maiden  who  has  stolen  poor  somebody's  heart  so. 
Ah,  I  shall  remember  it,  because  it  is  so  queer  a  name. 
But  stop,  I  had  better  write  it  down.  Lend  me  your  hat, 
poor  boy,  to  write  on." 

'*  I  have  a  great  mind  to  lend  you  a  box  on  the  ear,"  I 
answered  her,  in  my  vexation;  ''and  I  would,  if  you  had 
not  been  crying  so,  you  sly  good-for-nothing  baggage.  As 
it  is,  I  shall  keep  it  for  Master  Faggus,  and  add  interest 
for  keeping." 

**  Oh,  no,  John;  oh,  no,  John,"  she  begged  me  ear- 
nestly, being  sobered  in  a  moment.  "  Your  hand  is  so  ter- 
ribly heavy,  John;  and  he  never  would  forgive  you; 
although  he  is  so  good-hearted,  he  cannot  put  up  with  an 
insult.  Promise  me,  dear  John,  that  you  will  not  strike 
him,  and  I  will  promise  you  faithfully  to  keep  your  secret 
even  from  mother,  and  even  from  Cousin  Tom  himself." 

"  And  from  Lizzie;  most  of  all,  from  Lizzie,"  I  answered, 
very  eagerly,  knowing  too  well  which  one  of  my  family 
would  be  hardest  with  me. 

"  Of  course,  from  little  Lizzie,"  said  Annie,  with  some 
contempt;  "  a  young  thing  like  her  cannot  be  kept  too 
long,  in  my  opinion,  from  the  knowledge  of  such  subjects. 
And  besides,  I  shoiifa  be  very  sorry  if  Lizzie  had  the  right 
to  know  your  secretf^as  I  have,  dearest  John.  Not  a  soul 
shall  be  the  wiser  for  your  having  trusted  me,  John; 
although  I  shall  be  very  wretched  when  you  are  late  away 
at  night  among  those  dreadful  people." 

*'Well,"  I  replied,  "it  is  no  use  crying  over  spilled 
milk,  Annie.  You  have  my  secret,  and  I  have  yours;  and 
I  scarcely  know  which  of  the  two  is  likely  to  have  the  worst 
time  of  it,  when  it  comes  to  mother's  ears.  I  could  put 
np  with  perpetual  scolding,  but  not  with  mother's  sad 
silence." 


ANNIE  GETS  THE  BEST  OF  IT.  239 

"  That  is  exactly  how  I  feel,  John;  "  aud  as  Anuie  said 
it  she  brightened  up;  and  her  soft  eyes  shone  upon  me; 
*'  but  now  I  shall  be  much  happier,  dear,  because  I  shall 
try  to  help  you.  No  doubt  the  young  lady  deserves  it, 
John.     She  is  not  after  the  farm,  I  hope!" 

"  She!"  I  exclaimed;  and  that  was  enough;  there  was  so 
much  scorn  in  my  voice  and  face. 

"  Then,  I  am  sure,  I  am  very  glad; "  Annie  always  made 
the  best  of  things;  *^for  I  do  believe  that  Sally  Snowe  has 
taken  a  fancy  to  our  dairy-place,  and  the  pattern  of  our 
cream  pans;  and  she  askea  so  much  about  our  meadows, 
and  the  color  of  the  milk " 

**Then,  after  all,  you  are  right,  dear  Annie;  it  is  the 
ground  she  dotes  upon!" 

*^  And  the  things  that  walk  upon  it,"  she  answered,  with 
another  kiss;  *'  Sally  has  taken  a  wonderful  fancy  to  our 
best  cow,  'Nipple  pins.'  But  she  never  shall  have  her 
now;  what  a  consolation!" 

We  entered  the  house  quite  gently  thus,  and  found 
Farmer  Nicholas  Snowe  asleep,  little  dreaming  how  his 
plans  had  been  overset  between  us.  And  then  Annie  said 
to  me,  very  slyly,  between  a  smile  and  a  blush: 

"Don't  you  wisli  Lorna  Doone  was  here,  John,  in  the 
parlor  along  with  mother,  instead  of  those  two  fashionable 
milkmaids,  as  Uncle  Ben  will  call  them,  and  poor  stupid 
Mistress  Kebby?" 

"  That,  indeed,  I  do,  Annie.  I  must  kiss  you  for  only 
thinking  of  it.  Dear  me,  it  seems  as  if  you  had  known  all 
about  us  for  a  twelvemonth." 

"She  loves  you  with  all  her  heart,  John.  No  doubt 
about  that,  of  course."  And  Annie  looked  up  at  me,  as 
much  as  to  say  she  would  like  to  know  who  could  help  it. 

"  That's  the  very  thing  she  won't  do,"  said  I,  knowing 
that  Annie  would  love  me  all  the  more  for  it;  "she  is  only 
beginning  to  like  me,  Annie;  and  as  for  loving,  she  is  so 
young  that  she  only  loves  her  grandfather.  But  I  hope 
she  will  come  to  it  by-and-by." 

"  Of  course  she  must,"  replied  my  sister;  "it  will  be  im- 
possible for  her  to  help  it." 

"Ah  well!  I  don't  know,"  for  I  wanted  more  assurance 
of  it.     "  Maidens  are  such  wondrous  things!" 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  Annie,  casting  her   bright  eyes 


^40  lORi^A  DOONE. 

downward:  ^'love  is  as  simple  as  milking  when  people 
know  how  to  do  it.  But  you  must  not  let  her  alone  too 
long;  that  is  my  advice  to  you.  What  a  simpleton  you 
must  have  been  not  to  tell  me  long  ago.  I  would  have 
made  Lorna  wild  about  you  long  before  this  time,  Johnny. 
But  now  you  go  into  the  parlor,  dear,  while  I  do  your 
collop.  Faith  Snowe  is  not  come,  but  Polly  and  Sally. 
Sally  has  made  up  her  mind  to  conquer  you  this  very 
blessed  evening,  John.  Only  look  what  a  thing  of  a  scarf 
she  has  on;  I  should  be  quite  ashamed  to  wear  it.  But 
you  wonH  strike  poor  Tom,  will  you?*' 

^'  Not  I,  my  darling,  for  your  sweet  sake.*' 

And  so  dear  Annie,  having  grown  quite  brave,  gave  me 
a  little  push  into  the  parlor,  where  1  was  quite  abashed  to 
enter,  after  all  I  had  heard  about  Sally.  And  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  examine  her  well,  and  try  a  little  courting  with 
her,  if  she  should  lead  me  on,  that  I  might  be  in  practice 
for  Lorna.  But  when  I  perceived  how  grandly  and  richly 
both  the  young  damsels  were  appareled;  and  how  in  their 
courtesies  to  me,  they  retreated,  as  if  I  were  making  up  to 
them,  in  a  way  they  had  learned  from  Exeter;  and  how 
they  began  to  talk  of  the  Court,  as  if  they  had  been  there 
all  their  lives,  and  the  latest  mode  of  the  Duchess  of  this, 
and  the  profile  of  the  Countess  of  that,  and  the  last  good 
saying  of  my  Lord  something;  instead  of  butter,  and  cream, 
and  eggs,  and  things  which  they  understood;  I  knew  there 
must  be  somebody  in  the  room  besides  Jasper  Kebby  to 
talk  at. 

And  so  there  was;  for  behind  the  curtain  drawn  across 
the  window-seat  no  less  a  man  than  Uncle  Ben  was  sitting 
half  asleep  and  weary;  and  by  his  side  a  little  girl,  very 
quiet  and  very  watchful.  My  mother  led  me  to  Uncle 
Ben,  and  he  took  my  hand  without  rising,  muttering  some- 
thing not  over-polite  about  my  being  bigger  than  ever.  I 
asked  him  heartily  how  he  was,  and  he  said,  ^'  Well  enough 
for  that  matter;  but  none  the  better  for  the  noise  you 
great  clods  have  been  making." 

"  1  am  sorry  if  we  have  disturbed  you,  sir,'*  I  answered, 
very  civilly;  "  but  I  knew  not  that  you  were  here  even;  and 
you  must  allow  for  harvest- time." 

''  So  it  seems,"  he  replied;  ''  and  allow  a  great  deal,  in- 
cluding waste  ^nd  drunkenness.    Now  (if  you  can  see  so 


A^rnE  OMTS  ME  BEST  Oi'  JT.  Ul 

small  a  thing,  after  emptying  flagons  much  larger)  this  is 
my  granddaughter,  and  my  heiress  " — here  he  glanced  at 
mother — ''my  heiress,  little  Ruth  Huckaback." 

'*  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Ruth,"  I  answered,  offer- 
ing her  my  hand,  which  she  seemed  afraid  to  take;  *'  wel- 
come to  Plovers  Barrows,  my  good  cousin  Ruth." 

However,  my  good  cousin  Ruth  only  arose,  and  made  me 
a  courtesy,  and  lifted  her  great  brown  eyes  at  me,  more  in 
fear,  as  I  thought,  than  kinship.  And  if  ever  any  one 
looked  unlike  the  heiress  to  great  property,  it  was  the  little 
girl  before  me. 

**  Come  out  to  the  kitchen,  dear,  and  let  me  chuck  you 
to  the  ceiling,"  I  said,  just  to  encourage  her;  ^'  I  always  do 
it  to  little  girls;  and  then  they  can  see  the  hams  and 
bacon."  But  Uncle  Reuben  burst  out  laughing,  and  Ruth 
turned  away  with  a  deep  rich  color. 

"Do  you  know  how  old  she  is,  you  numskull?"  said 
Uncle  Ben,  in  his  dryest  drawl;  *'  she  was  seventeen  last 
July,  sir." 

^'  On  the  first  of  July,  grandfather,"  Ruth  whispered, 
with  her  back  still  to  me;  "but  many  people  will  not 
believe  it." 

Here  mother  came  up  to  my  rescue,  as  she  always  loved 
to  do;  and  she  said,  "  If  my  son  may  not  dance  Miss  Ruth, 
at  any  rate  he  may  dance  with  her.  We  have  only  been 
waiting  for  you,  dear  John,  to  have  a  little  harvest  dance, 
with  the  kitchen  door  thrown  open.  You  take  Ruth; 
Uncle  Ben,  take  Sally;  Master  Kebby,  pair  off  with  Polly; 
and  neighbor  Nicholas  will  be  good  enough,  if  I  can  awake 
him,  to  stand  up  with  fair  Mistress  Kebby.  Lizzie  will 
play  us  the  virginal.     Won't  you,  Lizzie  dear?" 

"But  who  is  to  dance  with  you,  madam?"  Uncle  Ben 
asked,  very  politely.  "I  think  )'0U  must  re-arrange  your 
figure.  I  have  not  danced  for  a  score  of  years;  and  I  will 
not  dance  now,  while  the  mistress  and  the  owner  of  the 
harvest  sits  aside  neglected." 

"Nay,  Master  Huckaback,"  cried  Sally  Snowe,  with  a 
saucy  toss  of  her  hair,  "  Mistress  Ridd  is  too  kind,  a  great 
deal,  in  handing  you  over  to  me.  You  take  her;  and  I 
will  fetch  Annie  to  be  my  partner  this  evening.  1  like 
dancing  very  much  better  with  girls,  for  they  never  squeeze 
and  rumple  one.     Oh  it  is  so  much  nicer!" 


242  LORKA  DOONE. 

•'  Have  no  fear  for  me,  my  dears,"  our  mother  answered, 
smiling;  "Parson  Bowden  promised  to  come  back  again; 
I  expect  him  every  minute;  and  he  intends  to  lead  me  off, 
and  bring  a  partner  for  Annie  too — a  very  pretty  young 
gentleman.     Now  begin,  and  I  will  join  you/' 

There  was  no  disobeying  her  without  rudeness;  and  in- 
deed the  girls'  feet  were  already  jigging,  and  Lizzie  giving 
herself  wonderful  airs  with  a  roll  of  learned  music;  and 
even  while  Annie  was  doing  my  collop,  her  pretty  round 
instep  was  arching  itself,  as  I  could  see  from  the  parlor 
door.  So  I  took  little  Ruth,  and  I  spun  her  around,  as 
the  sound  of  the  music  came  lively  and  ringing;  and  after 
us  came  all  the  rest  with  much  laughter,  begging  me  not 
to  jump  over  her;  and  anon  my  grave  partner  began  to 
smile  sweetly,  and  look  up  at  me  with  the  brightest  of 
eyes,  and  drop  me  the  prettiest  courtesies;  till  I  thought 
what  a  great  stupe  I  must  have  been  to  dream  of  putting 
her  in  the  cheese-rack.  But  one  thing  I  could  not  at  all 
understand;  why  mother,  who  used  to  do  all  in  her  power 
to  throw  me  across  Sally  Snowe,  should  now  do  the  very 
opposite;  for  she  would  not  allow  me  one  moment  with 
Sally,  not  even  to  cross  in  the  dance,  or  whisper,  or  go  any- 
where near  a  corner  (which,  as  I  said,  I  intended  to  do, 
just  byway  of  practice);  while  she  kept  me  all  the  evening 
as  close  as  possible  with  Ruth  Huckaback,  and  came  up 
and  praised  me  so  to  Ruth,  times  and  again,  that  I  declare 
I  was  quite  ashamed.  Although,  of  course,  I  knew  that  I 
deserved  it  all,  but  I  could  not  well  say  that. 

Then  Annie  came  sailing  down  the  dance,  with  her  beau- 
tiful hair  flowing  around  her;  the  lightest  figure  in  all  the 
room,  and  the  sweetest  and  the  loveliest.  She  was  blushing, 
with  her  fair  cheeks  red  beneath  her  dear  blue  eyes,  as  she 
met  my  glance  of  surprise  and  grief  at  the  partner  she  was 
leaning  on.  It  was  Squire  Mar  wood  de  Whichehalse. 
I  would  sooner  have  seen  her  with  Tom  Faggus, 
as  indeed  I  had  expected,  when  I  heard  of  Parson 
Bowden.  And  to  me  it  seemed  that  she  had  no  right  to 
be  dancing  so  with  any  other;  and  to  this  effect  I  contrived 
to  whisper;  but  she  only  said,  "  See  to  yourself,  John. 
No,  but  let  us  both  enjoy  ourselves.  You  are  not  dancing 
with  Lorna,  John.     But  you  seem  uncommonly  happy.*' 

"  Tush/'  I  said;  *'  could  I  flip  about  so  if  I  had  my  love 
with  me?'' 


JOHN  FRY'S  ERRAND.  243 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 
JOHN  fry's  errand. 

We  kept  up  the  dance  very  late  that  night,  mother  being 
in  such  wonderful  spirits  that  she  would  not  hear  of  our 
going  to  bed;  while  she  glanced  from  young  Squire 
Slarwood,  very  deep  in  his  talk  with  our  Annie,  to 
me  and  Ruth  Huckaback  who  were  beginning  to  be  very 
pleasant  company.  Alas,  poor  mother,  so  proud  as  she 
was,  how  little  she  dreamed  that  her  good  schemes  already 
were  hopelessly  going  awry! 

Being  forced  to  be  up  before  daylight  next  day,  in  order 
to  begin  right  early,  I  would  not  go  to  my  bedroom  that 
night  for  fear  of  disturbing  my  mother,  but  determined  to 
sleep  in  the  tallat  a  while,  that  place  being  cool  and  airy, 
and  refreshing  with  the  smell  of  sweet  hay.  Moreover, 
after  my  dwelling  in  town,  where  I  had  felt  like  a  horse  on 
a  lime-kiln,  I  could  not  for  a  length  of  time  have  enough 
of  country  life.  The  mooing  of  a  calf  was  music,  and  the 
chuckle  of  a  fowl  was  wit,  and  the  snore  of  the  horses  was 
news  to  me. 

"  Wult  have  thee  own  wai,  I  rackon,"  said  Betty,  being 
cross  with  sleepiness,  for  she  had  washed  up  everything; 
**slape  in  hog-pound,  if  thee  laikes,  Jan." 

Letting  her  have  the  last  word  of  it  (as  is  the  due  of 
women),  I  stood  in  the  court,  and  wondered  a  while  at  the 
glory  of  the  harvest-moon,  and  the  yellow  world  it  shone 
upon.  Then  I  saw,  as  sure  as  ever  I  was  standing  there  in 
the  shadow  of  the  stable,  I  saw  a  short  wide  figure  glide 
across  the  foot  of  the  court-yard,  between  me  and  the  six- 
barred  gate.  Instead  of  running  after  it,  as  I  should  have 
done,  I  began  to  consider  who  it  could  be,  and  what  on 
earth  was  doing  there,  when  all  our  people  were  in  bed, 
and  the  reapers  gone  home,  or  to  the  linhaj  close  against 
the  wheat-field. 


^44  LORNA  BOONE, 

Having  made  up  ray  mind  at  last  that  it  could  be  none 
of  our  people — though  not  a  dog  was  barking — and  also 
that  it  must  have  been  either  a  girl  or  a  woman,  I  ran  down 
with  all  speed  to  learn  what  might  be  the  meaning  of  it. 
But  I  came  too  late  to  learn,  through  my  own  hesitation; 
for  this  was  the  lower  end  of  the  court-yard,  not  the 
approach  from  the  parish  highway,  but  the  end  of  the 
sledd-way  across  the  fields  where  the  brook  goes  down  to 
the  Lynn  stream,  and  where  Squire  Faggus  had  saved  the 
old  drake.  And  of  course  the  dry  channel  of  the  brook, 
being  scarcely  any  water  now,  afforded  plenty  of  place  to 
hide,  leading  also  to  a  little  coppice  beyond  our  cabbage- 
garden,  and  so  farther  on  to  the  parish  highway. 

1  saw  at  once  that  it  was  vain  to  make  any  pursuit  by 
moonlight;  and  resolving  to  hold  my  own  counsel  about  it 
(though  puzzled  not  a  little)  and  to  keep  watch  there 
another  night,  back  I  returned  to  the  tallat-ladder,  and 
slept  without  leaving  off  till  morning. 

Now  many  people  may  wish  to  know,  as  indeed  I  myself 
did  very  greatly,  what  had  brought  Master  Huckaback 
over  from  Dulverton  at  that  time  of  year,  when  the  cloth- 
ing business  was  most  active  on  account  of  harvest  wages, 
and  when  the  new  wheat  was  beginning  to  sample  from  the 
early  parts  up  the  country  (for  he  meddled  as  well  in  corn- 
dealing),  and  when  we  could  not  attend  to  him  properly  by 
reason  of  our  occupation.  And  yet  more  surprising  it 
seemed  to  me  that  he  should  have  brought  his  grand- 
daughter also,  instead  of  the  troop  of  dragoons,  without 
which  he  had  vowed  he  would  never  come  again.  And 
how  he  had  managed  to  enter  the  house,  together  with  his 
granddaughter,  and  be  sitting  quite  at  Iiome  in  the  parlor 
there,  without  any  knowledge  or  even  suspicion  on  my 
part.  That  last  question  was  easily  solved,  for  mother  her- 
self had  admitted  them  by  means  of  the  little  passage 
during  a  chorus  of  the  harvest-song,  which  might  have 
drowned  an  earthquake:  but  as  for  his  meaning  and 
motive,  and  apparent  neglect  of  his  business,  none  but  himself 
could  interpret  them;  and  as  he  did  not  see  fit  to  do  so,  we 
could  not  be  rude  enough  to  inquire. 

He  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  take  his  departure,  though  his 
visit  was  so  inconvenient  to  us,  as  himself,  indeed,  must 
have  noticed;  and  presently  Lizzie,  who  was  the  sharpest 


JOHN  FRY'S  ERRAND.  245 

among  us,  said  in  my  hearing  that  she  believed  he  had 
purposely  timed  his  visit  so  that  he  might  have  liberty  to 
pursue  his  own  object,  whatsoever  it  were,  without  inter- 
ruption from  us.  Mother  gazed  hard  upon  Lizzie  at  this, 
having  formed  a  very  different  opinion;  but  Annie  and 
myself  agreed  that  it  was  worth  looking  into. 

Now  how  could  we  look  into  it,  without  watching  Uncle 
Reuben  whenever  he  went  abroad,  and  trying  to  catch  him 
in  his  speech,  when  he  was  taking  his  ease  at  night?  For, 
in  spite  of  all  the  disgust  with  which  he  had  spoken  of  har- 
vest wassailing,  there  was  not  a  man  coming  into  our 
kitchen  who  liked  it  better  than  he  did;  only  in  a  quiet  way, 
and  without  too  many  witnesses.  Now  to  endeavor  to  get 
at  the  purpose  of  any  guest,  even  a  treacherous  one  (which 
we  had  no  right  to  think  Uncle  Reuben),  by  means  of 
observing  him  in  his  cups,  is  a  thing  which  even  the 
lowest  of  people  would  regard  with  abhorrence.  And  to 
my  mind  it  was  not  clear  whether  it  would  be  fair  play  at  all 
to  follow  a  visitor  even  at  a  distance  from  home  and  clear 
of  our  premises;  except  for  the  purpose  of  fetching  him 
back,  and  giving  him  more  to  go  on  with.  Nevertheless 
we  cuuld  not  but  think,  the  times  being  wild  and  dis- 
jointed, that  Uncle  Ben  was  not  using  fairly  the  part  of  a 
guest  in  our  house,  to  make  long  expeditions  we  knew  not 
whither,  and  involve  us  in  trouble  we  knew  not  what. 

For  his  mode  was  directly  after  breakfast  to  pray  to  the 
Lord  a  little  (whicli  used  not  to  be  his  practice),  and  then 
go  forth  upon  Dolly,  the  which  was  our  Annie's  pony,  very 
quiet  and  respectful,  with  a  bag  of  good  victuals  hung 
behind  him,  and  two  great  cavalry  pistols  in  front.  And 
he  always  wore  his  meatiest  clothes,  as  if  expecting  to  be 
robbed,  or  to  disarm  the  temptation  thereto;  and  he  never 
took  his  golden  chronometer,  neither  his  bag  of  money. 
So  much  the  girls  found  out  and  told  me  (for  I  was  never 
at  home  myself  by  day);  and  they  very  craftily  spurred  me 
on,  having  less  noble  ideas,  perhaps,  to  hit  upon  Uncle 
Reuben's  track,  and  follow,  and  see  what  became  of  him. 
For  he  never  returned  until  dark  or  more,  just  in  time  to 
be  in  before  us,  who  were  coming  home  from  the  harvest. 
And  then  Dolly  always  seemed  very  weary,  and  stained 
with  a  muck  from  beyond  our  parish. 

But  I  refused  to  follow  him,  not  only  for  the  loss  0/  1 


246  LORNA  BOONE. 

day's  work  to  myself,  and  at  least  a  half  a  day  to  the  other 
men,  but  chiefly  because  I  could  not  think  that  it  would  be 
upright  and  manly.  It  was  all  very  well  to  creep  warily 
into  the  valley  of  the  Doones,  and  heed  everything  around 
me,  both  because  they  were  public  enemies,  and  also  be- 
cause I  risked  my  life  at  every  step  I  took  there.  But  as 
to  tracking  a  feeble  old  man  (however  subtle  he  might  be), 
a  guest,  moreover,  of  our  own,  and  a  relative  through  my 
mother — '*  Once  for  all,"  I  said,  *'it  is  below  me,  and  I 
won^t  do  it." 

Thereupon  the  girls,  knowing  my  way,  ceased  to  torment 
me  about  it:  but  what  was  my  astonishment  the  very  next 
day  to  perceive  that  instead  of  fourteen  reapers,  we  were 
only  thirteen  left,  directly  our  breakfast  was  done  with — 
or  mowers,  rather,  I  should  say,  for  we  were  gone  into  the 
barley  now. 

"Who  has  been  and  left  his  scythe?"  I  asked;  *'and 
here^s  a  tin  cup  never  handled!" 

'*  Whoy,  dudn't  ee  knaw,  Maister  Jan,"  said  Bill  Dadds, 
looking  at  me  queerly,  **as  Jan  Vry  wur  gane  avore 
braxvass. " 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  I  answered,  *'*  John  knows  what  he  is 
doing."  For  John  Fry  was  a  kind  of  foreman  now,  and 
it  would  not  do  to  say  anything  that  might  lessen  his 
authority.  However,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  rope  him, 
when  I  should  catch  him  by  himself,  without  peril  to  his 
dignity. 

But  when  I  came  home  in  the  evening,  late  and  almost 
weary,  there  was  no  Annie  cooking  my  supper,  nor  Lizzie  by 
the  fire  reading,  nor  even  little  Ruth  Huckaback  watching 
the  shadows  and  pondering.  Upon  this  I  went  to  the  girls' 
room,  not  in  the  very  best  of  tempers;  and  there  1  found 
all  three  of  them  in  the  little  place  set  apart  for  Annie, 
eagerly  listening  to  John  Fry,  who  was  telling  some  great 
adventure.  John  had  a  great  jug  of  ale  beside  him,  and  a 
horn  well  drained;  and  he  clearly  looked  upon  himself  as 
a  hero,  and  the  maids  seemed  to  be  of  the  same  opinion. 

"Well  done,  John,"  my  sister  was  saying,  "capitally 
done,  John  Fry.  How  very  brave  you  have  been,  John. 
Now  quick,  let  us  hear  the  rest  of  it." 

"  What  does  all  this  nonsense  mean?"  I  said,  in  a  voice 
which  frightened  them,  as  I  could  see  by  the  light  of  our 


JOHN  FR  Y'S  ERRAND.  247 

own  mutton-candles;  ''John  Fry,  you  be  off  to  your  wife 
at  once,  or  you  shall  have  what  I  owe  you  now,  instead  of 
to-morrow  morning. " 

John  made  no  answer,  but  scratched  his  head,  and  looked 
at  the  maidens  to  take  his  part. 

**  It  is  you  that  must  be  off,  I  think,''  said  Lizzie,  look- 
ing straight  at  me  with  all  the  impudence  in  the  world: 
"  what  right  have  you  to  come  in  here  to  the  young  ladies' 
room,  without  an  invitation  even?" 

"Very  well.  Miss  Lizzie,  I  suppose  mother  has  some  right 
here."  And  with  that  I  was  going  away  to  fetch  her,  know- 
ing that  she  always  took  my  side,  and  never  would  allow 
the  house  to  be  turned  upside  down  in  that  manner.  But 
"Annie  caught  hold  of  me  by  the  arm,  and  little  Ruth  stood 
in  the  door- way;  and  Lizzie  said,  ''Don't  be  a  fool,  John. 
We  know  things  of  you,  you  know;  a  great  deal  more  than 
you  dream  of." 

Upon  this  I  glanced  at  Annie,  to  learn  whether  she  had 
been  telling,  but  her  pure,  true  face  reassured  me  at  once, 
and  then  she  said  very  gently: 

"  Lizzie,  you  talk  too  fast,  my  child.  No  one  knows  any 
thing  of  our  John  which  he  need  be  ashamed  of;  and 
working  as  he  does  from  light  to  dusk,  and  earning  the 
living  of  all  of  us,  he  is  entitled  to  choose  his  own  good 
time  for  going  out  and  for  coming  in,  without  consulting  a 
little  girl  five  years  younger  than  himself.  Now,  John,  sit 
down,  and  you  shall  know  all  that  we  have  done,  though  I 
doubt  whether  you  will  approve  of  it." 

Upon  this  I  kissed  Annie,  and  so  did  Ruth;  and  John 
Fry  looked  a  deal  more  comfortable,  but  Lizzie  only  made 
a  face  at  us.     Then  Annie  began  as  follows: 

"You  must  know,  dear  John,  that  we  have  been  ex- 
tremely curious,  ever  since  Uncle  Reuben  came,  to  know 
what  he  was  come  for,  especially  at  this  time  of  year,  when 
he  is  at  his  busiest.  He  never  vouchsafed  any  explanation, 
neither  gave  any  reason,  true  or  false,  which  shows  his 
entire  ignorance  of  all  feminine  nature.  If  Ruth  had 
known,  and  refused  to  tell  us,  we  should  have  been  much 
easier,  because  we  must  have  got  it  out  of  Ruth  before  two 
or  three  days  were  over.  But  darling  Ruth  knew  no  more 
than  we  did;  and  indeed  I  must  do  her  the  justice  to  say 
that  she  had  been  quite  as  inquisitive.     Well,  we  might 


248  LORNA  DOONE. 

have  put  up  with  it,  if  it  had  not  been  for  his  taking 
Dolly,  my  own  pet  Dolly,  away  every  morning,  quite  as  if 
she  belonged  to  him,  and  keeping  her  out  until  close  upon 
dark,  and  then  bringing  her  home  in  a  frightful  condition. 
And  he  even  had  the  impudence,  when  I  told  him  that 
Dolly  was  my  pony,  to  say  that  we  owed  him  a  pony  ever 
since  you  took  from  him  that  little  horse  upon  which  you 
found  him  strapped  so  snugly;  and  he  means  to  take  Dolly 
to  Dulverton  with  him,  to  run  in  his  little  cart.  If  there 
is  law  in  the  land,  he  shall  not.  Surely,  John,  3^ou  will 
not  let  him?" 

*'That  I  won't,"  said  I,  ''except  upon  the  conditions 
which  I  offered  him  once  before.  If  we  owe  him  the  pony, 
we  owe  him  the  straps." 

Sweet  Annie  laughed  like  a  bell  at  this,  and  then  she 
went  on  with  her  story. 

*'  Well,  John,  we  were  perfectly  miserable.  You  cannot 
understand  it,  of  course;  but  I  used  to  go  every  evening 
and  hug  poor  Dolly,  and  kiss  her,  and  beg  her  to  tell  me 
where  she  had  been,  and  what  she  had  seen  that  day.  But 
never  having  belonged  to  Balaam,  darling  Dolly  was  quite 
unsuccessful,  though  often  she  strove  to  tell  me,  with  her 
ears  down  and  both  eyes  rolling.  Then  I  made  John  Fry 
tie  her  tail  in  a  knot  with  a  piece  of  white  ribbon,  as  if  for 
adornment,  that  I  might  trace  her  among  the  hills,  at  any 
rate  for  a  mile  or  two.  But  Uncle  Ben  was  too  deep  for 
that;  he  cut  off  the  ribbon  before  he  started,  saying  he 
would  have  no  Doones  after  him.  And  then  in  despair  I 
applied  to  you,  knowing  how  quick  of  foot  you  are,  and  I 
got  Ruth  and  Lizzie  to  help  me,  but  you  answered  us  very 
shortly;  and  a  very  poor  supper  you  had  that  night,  ac- 
cording to  your  deserts. 

*'  But  though  we  were  dashed  to  the  ground  for  a  time, 
we  were  not  wholly  discomfited.  Our  determination  to 
know  all  about  it  seemed  to  increase  with  the  difficulty. 
And  Uncle  Ben's  manner  last  night  was  so  dry,  when  we 
tried  to  romp  and  to  lead  him  out,  that  it  was  much  worse 
tlian  Jamaica  ginger  grated  into  a  poor  sprayed  finger.  So 
we  sent  him  to  bed  at  the  earliest  moment,  and  held  a  small 
council  upon  him.  If  you  remember,  you,  John,  having 
now  taken  to  smoke  (which  is  a  hateful  practice),  had  gone 
forth  grumbling  about  your  bad  supper,  and  not  taking  it 
as  a  good  lesson." 


JOHN  FHY' 8  ERRAND,  249 

''  Why,  Annie,"  I  cried,  in  amazement  at  this,  "  I  will 
never  trust  you  again  for  a  supper.  I  thought  you  were  so 
sorry. " 

*'And  sol  was,  dear — very  sorry.  But  still,  we  must 
do  our  duty.  And  when  we  came  to  consider  it,  Ruth  was 
the  cleverest  of  us  all;  for  she  said  that  surely  we  must 
have  some  man  we  could  trust  about  the  farm  to  go  on  a 
little  errand;  and  then  I  remembered  that  old  John  Fry 
would  do  anything  for  money." 

"  Not  for  money,  plaize,  miss,"  said  John  Frey,  taking  a 
pull  at  the  beer;  "  but  for  the  love  o'  your  swate  faice." 

*'  To  be  sure,  John;  with  the  King^s  behind  it.  And  so 
Lizzie  ran  for  John  Fry  at  once,  and  we  gave  him  full  di- 
rections, how  he  was  to  slip  out  of  the  barley  in  the  con- 
fusion of  the  breakfast,  so  that  none  might  miss  him,  and 
to  run  back  to  the  black  combe  bottom,  and  there  he 
would  find  the  very  same  pony  which  Uncle  Ben  had  been 
tied  upon,  and  there  is  no  faster  upon  the  farm.  And 
then,  without  waiting  for  any  breakfast,  unless  he  could 
eat  it  either  running  or  trotting,  he  was  to  travel  all  up 
the  black  combe  by  the  track  Uncle  Reuben  had  taken, 
and  up  at  the  top  to  look  forward  carefully,  and  so  to  trace 
him  without  being  seen." 

"Ay;  and  raight  wull  a  doo'd  un,"  John  cried,  with  his 
mouth  in  the  bullock's  horn. 

"  Well,  and  what  did  you  see,  John?"  I  asked,  with 
great  anxiety;  though  I  meant  to  have  shown  no  interest. 

*^  John  was  just  at  the  very  point  of  it,"  Lizzie  answered 
me  sharply,  "  when  you  chose  to  come  in  and  stop  him," 
"Then  let  him  begin  again,"  said  I;  "  things  being  gone 
so  far,  it  is  now  my  duty  to  know  everything,  for  the  sake 
of  you  girls  and  mother." 

"Hem!"  cried  Lizzie,  in  a  nasty  way;  but  I  took  no 
notice  of  her,  for  she  was  always  bad  to  deal  with.  There- 
fore John  Fry  began  again,  being  heartily  glad  to  do  so, 
that  his  story  might  get  out  of  the  tumble  which  all  our 
talk  had  made  in  it.  But  as  he  could  not  tell  a  tale  in  the 
manner  of  my  Lorna  (although  he  told  it  very  well  for 
those  who  understood  him),  I  will  take  it  from  his  mouth 
altogether,  and  state  in  brief  what  happened. 

When  John,  upon  his  forest  pony,  which  he  had  much 
ado  to  hold  (its  mouth  being  like 'a  bucket),  was  come  to 


250  LORNA  BOONE. 

the  top  of  the  long  black  combe,  two  miles  or  more  from 
Plovers  Barrows,  and  winding  to  the  southward,  he  stopped 
his  little  nag  short  of  the  crest,  and  got  off  and  looked 
ahead  of  him,  from  behind  a  tump  of  whortles.  It  was  a 
long  flat  sweep  of  moor-land  over  which  he  was  gazing,  with 
a  few  bogs  here  and  there,  and  brushy  places  round  them. 
Of  course,  John  Fry,  from  his  shepherd  life  and  reclaiming 
of  strayed  cattle,  knew  as  well  as  need  be  where  he  was, 
and  the  spread  of  the  hills  before  him,  although  it  was 
beyond  our  beat,  or,  rather,  I  should  say  beside  it.  Not 
but  what  we  might  have  grazed  there  had  it  been  our 
pleasure,  but  that  it  was  not  worth  our  while,  and  scarcely 
worth  Jasper  Kebby's  even,  all  the  land  being  cropped  (as 
one  might  say)  with  desolation.  And  nearly  all  our  knowl- 
edge of  it  sprung  from  the  unaccountable  tricks  of  cows 
who  have  young  calves  with  them;  at  which  time  they 
have  wild  desire  to  get  away  from  the  sight  of  man,  and 
keep  calf  and  milk  for  one  another,  altliough  it  be  in  a 
barren  land.  At  least  our  cows  have  gotten  this  trick,  and 
I  have  heard  other  people  complain  of  it. 

John  Fry,  as  I  said,  knew  the  place  well  enough,  but  he 
liked  it  none  the  more  for  that,  neither  did  any  of  our 
people;  and,  indeed,  all  the  neighborhood  of  Thornshill 
and  Larksborough,  and  most  of  all  Black  Barrow  Down, 
lay  under  grave  imputation  of  having  been  enchanted  with 
a  very  evil  spell.  Moreover,  it  was  known,  though  folk 
were  loath  to  speak  of  it,  even  on  a  summer  morning,  that 
Squire  Thom,  who  had  been  murdered  there  a  century  ago 
or  more,  had  been  seen  by  several  shepherds,  even  in  the 
middle  day,  walking  with  his  severed  head  carried  in  his 
left  handj'^and  his  right  arm  lifted  toward  the  sun. 

Therefore  it  was  very  bold  in  John  (as  I  acknowledged) 
to  venture  across  that  moor  alone,  even  with  a  fast  pony 
under  him,  and  some  whisky  by  his  side.  And  he  would 
never  have  done  so  (of  that  I  am  quite  certain),  either  for 
the  sake  of  Annie's  sweet  face,  or  of  the  golden  guinea, 
which  the  three  maidens  had  subscribed  to  reward  his  skill 
and  valor.  But  the  truth  was  that  he  could  not  resist  his 
own  great  curiosity.  For,  carefully  spying  across  the  moor, 
from  behind  the  tuft  of  whortles,  at  first  he  could  discover 
nothing  having  life  and  motion,  except  three  or  four  wild 
cattle  roving  in  vain  search  for  nourishment,  and  a  diseased 


JOHN  FR  T'S  ERHAND.  251 

sheep  banished  hither,  and  some  carrion  crows  keeping 
watch  on  her.  But  when  John  was  taking  his  very  last 
look,  being  only  too  glad  to  go  home  again,  and  acknowl- 
edge himself  baffled,  he  thought  he  saw  a  figure  moving  in 
the  farthest  distance  upon  Black  Barrow  Down,  scarcely  a 
thing  to  be  sure  of  yet,  on  account  of  the  want  of  color. 
But  as  he  watched,  the  figure  passed  between  him  and  a 
naked  cliff,  and  appeared  to  be  a  man  on  horseback,  making 
his  way  very  carefully,  in  fear  of  bogs  and  serpents.  For 
all  about  there  it  is  adders'  ground,  and  large  black 
serpents  dwell  in  the  marshes,  and  can  swim  as  well  as 
crawl. 

John  knew  that  the  man  who  was  riding  there  could  be 
none  but  Uncle  Reuben,  for  none  of  the  Doones  ever  passed 
that  way,  and  the  shepherds  were  afraid  of  it.  And  now 
it  seemed  an  unked  place  for  an  unarmed  man  to  venture 
through,  especially  after  an  armed  one  who  might  not  like 
to  be  spied  upon,  and  must  have  some  dark  object  in  visit- 
ing such  drear  solitudes.  Nevertheless  John  Fry  so  ached 
with  unbearable  curiosity  to  know  what  an  old  man,  and  a 
stranger,  and  a  rich  man,  and  a  peaceable,  could  possibly 
be  after  in  that  mysterious  manner.  Moreover,  John  so 
throbbed  with  hope  to  find  some  wealthy  secret,  that, 
come  what  would  of  it,  he  resolved  to  go  to  the  end  of  the 
matter. 

Therefore  he  only  waited  a  while  for  fear  of  being  dis- 
covered, till  Master  Huckaback  turned  to  the  left  and  en- 
tered a  little  gully,  whence  he  could  not  survey  the  moor. 
Then  John  remounted  and  crossed  the  rough  land  and  the 
stony  places,  and  picked  his  way  among  the  morasses  as 
fast  as  ever  he  dared  to  go,  until,  in  about  half  an  hour, 
he  drew  nigh  the  entrance  of  the  gully.  And  now  it  be- 
hooved him  to  be  most  wary;  for  Uncle  Ben  might 
have  stopped  in  there,  either  to  rest  his  horse,  or  having 
reached  the  end  of  his  journey.  And  in  either  case  John 
had  little  doubt  that  he  himself  would  be  pistoled,  and 
nothing  more  ever  heard  of  him.  Therefore  he  made  his 
pony  come  to  the  mouth  of  its  sideways,  and  leaned  over 
and  peered  in  around  the  rocky  comer,  while  the  little 
horse  cropped  at  the  briers. 

But  he  soon  perceived  that  the  gully  was  empty,  so  far, 
at  least,  as  its  course  was  straight;  and  with  that  he  has- 


252  LORNA  DOONE. 

tened  into  it,  though  his  heart  was  not  working  easily. 
When  he  had  traced  the  winding  holiow  for  half  a  mile  or 
more,  he  saw  that  it  forked,  and  one  part  led  to  the  left 
up  a  steep  red  bank,  and  the  other  to  the  right,  being 
narrow,  and  slightly  tending  downward.  Some  yellow 
sand  lay  here  and  there  between  the  starving  grasses,  and 
this  he  examined  narrowly  for  a  trace  of  Master  Huckaback. 

At  last  he  saw  that,  beyond  all  doubt,  the  man  he  was 
pursuing  had  taken  the  course  which  led  downhill;  and 
down  the  hill  he  must  follow  him.  And  this  John  did 
with  deep  misgivings,  and  a  hearty  wish  that  he  had  never 
started  upon  so  perilous  an  errand.  For  now  he  knew  not 
where  he  was,  and  scarcely  dared  to  ask  himself,  having 
heard  of  a  horrible  hole,  somewhere  in  this  neighborhood, 
called  the  *^  Wizard's  Slough.''  Therefore  John  rode  down 
the  slope  with  sorrow  and  great  caution.  And  these  grew 
more  as  he  went  onward,  and  his  pony  reared  against 
him,  being  scared,  although  a  native  of  the  roughest 
moor-land.  And  John  had  just  made  up  his  mind  that 
God  meant  this  for  a  warning,  as  the  passage  seemed 
darker  and  deeper,  when  suddenly  he  turned  a  corner,  and 
saw  a  scene  which  stopped  him. 

For  there  was  the  Wizard's  Slough  itself,  as  black  as 
death,  and  bubbling,  with  a  few  scant  yellow  reeds  in  a 
ring  around  it.  Outside  these,  bright  water-grass  of  the 
liveliest  green  was  creeping,  tempting  any  unwary  foot  to 
step,  and  plunge,  and  founder.  And  on  the  marge  were 
blue  campanula,  sundew,  and  forget-me-not,  such  as  no 
child  could  resist.  On  either  side  the  hill  fell  back,  and 
the  ground  was  broken  with  tufts  of  rush,  and  flag,  and 
mare's-tail,  and  a  few  rough  alder-trees  overclogged  with 
water.  And  not  a  bird  was  seen  or  heard,  neither  rail  nor 
water-hen,  wagtail  nor  reed -warbler. 

Of  this  horrible  quagmire,  the  worst  upon  all  Exmoor, 
John  had  heai'd  from  his  grandfather,  and  even  from  his 
mother,  when  they  wanted  to  keep  him  quiet;  but  his 
father  had  feared  to  speak  of  it  to  him,  being  a  man  of 
piety,  and  up  to  the  tricks  of  the  evil  one.  This  made 
John  the  more  desirous  to  have  a  good  look  at  it  now, 
only  with  his  girths  well  up,  to  turn  away  and  flee  at 
speed,  if  anything  should  happen.  And  now  he  proved 
how  well  it  is  to  be  wary  and  wide  awake,  even  in  lonesome 


JOHN  FRY'S  ERRA?;r>.  2.53 

places.  For  at  the  other  side  of  the  slough,  and  a  few 
land-yards  beyond  it,  where  the  ground  was  less  noisome, 
he  had  observed  a  felled  tree  lying  over  a  great  hole  in  tlie 
earth,  with  staves  of  wood,  and  slabs  of  stone,  and  some 
yellow  gravel  around  it.  But  the  flags  of  reeds  around  the 
morass  partly  screened  it  from  his  eyes,  and  he  could  not 
make  out  the  meaning  of  it,  except  that  it  meant  no  good, 
and  probably  was  witchcraft.  Yet  Dolly  seemed  not  to  be 
harmed  by  it;  for  there  she  was  as  large  as  life,  tied  to  a 
stump  not  far  beyond,  and  flipping  the  flies  away  with  her 
tail. 

While  John  was  trembling  within  himself,  lest  Dolly 
should  get  scent  of  his  pony,  and  neigh,  and  reveal  their 
presence,  although  she  could  not  see  them,  suddenly,  to 
his  great  amazement  something  white  arose  out  of  the  hole, 
under  the  brown  trunk  of  the  tree.  Seeing  this,  his  blood 
went  back  within  him;  yet  was  he  not  able  to  turn  and 
flee,  but  rooted  his  face  in  among  the  loose  stones,  and 
kept  his  quivering  shoulders  back,  and  prayed  to  God  to 
protect  him.  However,  the  white  thing  itself  was  not  so 
very  awful,  being  nothing  more  than  a  long-coned  night- 
cap, with  a  tassel  on  the  top,  such  as  criminals  wear  at 
hanging  time.  But  when  John  saw  a  man's  face  under  it, 
and  a  man's  neck  and  shoulders  slowly  rising  out  of  the 
pit,  he  could  not  doubt  that  this  was  the  place  where  the 
murderers  come  to  life  again,  according  to  the  Exmoor 
story.  He  knew  that  a  man  had  been  hanged  last  week, 
and  that  this  was  the  ninth  day  after  it. 

Therefore,  he  could  bear  no  more,  thoroughly  brave  as 
he  had  been;  neither  did  he  wait  to  see  what  became  of 
the  gallows  man,  but  climbed  on  his  horse  with  what  speed 
he  might,  and  rode  away  at  full  gallop;  neither  did  he 
dare  go  back  by  the  way  he  came,  fearing  to  face  Black 
Barrow  Down!  Therefore,  he  struck  up  the  other  track 
leading  away  toward  Cloven  Rocks;  and  after  riding  hard 
for  an  hour  and  drinking  all  his  whisky,  he  luckily  fell  in 
with  a  shepherd,  who  led  him  on  to  a  public  house  some- 
where near  Exeford.  And  here  he  was  so  unmanned,  the 
excitement  being  over,  that  nothing  less  than  a  gallon  of 
ale  and  half  a  gammon  of  bacon  brought  him  to  his  right 
mind  again.  And  he  took  good  care  to  be  home  before 
dark,  having  followed  a  well-known  sheep  track. 


254  LORNA  DOONE. 

When  John  Fry  had  finished  his  story  at  last,  after 
many  exclamation's  from  Annie  and  from  Lizzie,  and  much 
praise  of  his  gallantry,  yet  some  little  disappointment  that 
he  had  not  stayed  there  a  little  longer  while  he  was  about 
it,so  as  to  be  able  to  tell  us  more,  I  said  to  him  very  sternly: 

"  Now,  John,  you  have  dreamed  half  this,  my  man.  I 
firmly  believe  that  you  fell  asleep  at  the  top  of  the  black 
combe,  after  drinking  all  your  whisky,  and  never  went  on 
the  moor  at  all.     You  know  what  a  liar  you  are,  John.'* 

The  girls  were  exceedingly  angry  at  this,  and  laid  their 
hands  before  my  mouth;  but  I  waited  for  John  to  answer, 
with  my  eyes  fixed  upon  him  steadfastly. 

**  Bain't  for  me  to  denai,"  said  John,  looking  at  me  very 
honestly,  ''but  what  a  maight  tull  alai,  now  and  awhiles, 
zame  as  other  men  doth,  and  most  of  arl  them  as  spak? 
again  it;  but  this  here  be  no  lai,  Maister  Jan.  I  wush  to 
God  it  wor,  boy:  a  maight  slape  this  naight  the  better." 

''I  believe  you  speak  the  truth,  John;  and  I  ask  youi 
pardon.  Now  not  a  word  to  any  one  about  this  strange 
affair.  There  is  mischief  brewing,  I  can  see,  and  it  is  mj 
place  to  attend  to  it.  Several  things  come  across  me  now— 
only  I  will  not  tell  you.'' 

They  were  not  at  all  contented  with  this;  but  I  would 
give  them  no  better,  except  to  say,  when  they  plagued  me 
greatly,  and  vowed  to  sleep  at  my  door  all  night. 

*'  Now,  my  dears,  this  is  foolish  of  you.  Too  much  of 
this  matter  is  known  already.  It  is  for  your  own  dear 
sakes  that  I  am  bound  to  be  cautious.  I  have  an  opinion 
of  my  own,  but  it  may  be  a  very  wrong  one;  I  will  not  ask 
you  to  share  it  with  me,  neither  will  I  make  you  inquisi- 
tive." 

Annie  pouted,  and  Lizzie  frowned,  and  Ruth  looked  at 
me  with  her  eyes  wide  open,  but  no  other  mark  of  regard- 
ing me.  And  I  saw  that  if  any  one  of  the  three  (for  John 
Fry  was  gone  home  with  the  trembles)  could  be  trusted  to 
keep  a  secret,  that  one  was  Ruth  Huckaback. 


FEEDING  OP  THE  PIGS.  255 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

FEEDING    OF     THE     PIGS. 

The  story  told  by  John  Fry  that  night,  and  my  convic- 
tion of  its  truth,  made  me  very  uneasy,  especially  as  fol- 
lowing upon  the  warning  of  Judge  Jeffreys,  and  the  hints 
received  from  Jeremy  Stickles,  and  the  outburst  of  the 
tanner  at  Dunster,  as  well  as  sundry  tales  and  rumors,  and 
signs  of  secret  understanding,  seen  and  heard  on  market- 
days,  and  at  places  of  entertainment.  We  knew  for  certain 
that  at  Taunton,  Bridgewater,  and  even  Dulverton,  there 
was  much  disaffection  toward  the  King,  and  regret  for 
the  days  of  the  Puritans.  Albeit  I  had  told  the  truth,  and 
the  pure  and  simple  truth,  when,  upon  my  examination,  I 
had  assured  his  lordship  that  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge 
there  was  nothing  of  the  sort  with  us. 

But  now  I  was  beginning  to  doubt  whether  I  might  not 
have  been  mistaken;  especially  when  we  heard,  as  we  did, 
of  arms  being  landed  at  Lynmouth  in  the  dead  of  the  night, 
and  of  the  tramp  of  men  having  reached  some  one's  ears 
from  a  hill  where  a  famous  echo  was.  P'or  it  must  be  plain 
to  any  conspirator  (witliout  the  example  of  tiie  Doones) 
that  for  the  secret  muster  of  men,  and  the  stowing  of  un- 
lawful arms,  and  communication  by  beacon  lights,  scarcely 
a  fitter  place  could  be  found  than  the  wilds  of  Exmoor, 
with  deep  ravines  running  far  inland  from  an  unwatched 
and  mostly  a  sheltered  sea.  For  the  channel  from  Coun- 
tisbury  Foreland  up  to  Minehead,  or  even  further,  though 
rocky  and  gusty,  and  full  of  currents,  is  safe  from  great 
rollers,  and  the  sweeping  power  of  the  southwest  storms, 
which  prevail  with  us  more  than  all  the  others,  and  make 
sad  work  on  the  opposite  coast. 

But  even  supposing  it  probable  that  something  against 
King  Charles  the  Second  (or  rather  against  his  Roman  ad- 
visers, and  especially  his  brother)  were  now  in  preparation 


256  LORNA  DOONE. 

among  us,  was  it  likely  that  Master  Huckaback,  a  wealthy 
man,  and  a  careful  one,  known  moreover  to  the  Lord  Chief- 
justice,  would  have  anything  to  do  with  it?  To  this  I  could 
make  no  answer;  Uncle  Ben  was  so  close  a  man,  so  avari- 
cious, and  so  revengeful,  that  it  was  quite  impossible  to  say 
what  course  he  might  pursue,  without  knowing  all  the 
chances  of  gain,  or  rise,  or  satisfaction  to  him.  That  he 
hated  the  Papists,  I  knew  full  well,  though  he  never  spoke 
much  about  them;  also  that  he  had  followed  the  march  of 
Oliver  Cromwell's  army,  but  more  as  a  sutler  (people  said) 
than  as  a  real  soldier;  and  that  he  would  go  a  long  way, 
and  risk  a  great  deal  of  money,  to  have  his  revenge  on  the 
Doones;  although  their  name  never  passed  his  lips  during 
the  present  visit. 

But  how  was  it  likely  to  be  as  to  the  Doones  themselves? 
Which  side  would  they  probably  take  in  the  coming  move- 
ment, if  movement  it  would  be?  So  far  as  they  had  any 
religion  at  all,  by  birth  they  were  Roman  Catholics — so 
much  I  knew  from  Lorna;  and  indeed  it  was  well  known 
all  around,  that  a  priest  had  been  fetched  more  than  once 
to  the  valley  to  soothe  some  poor  outlaw's  departure.  On 
the  other  hand  they  were  not  likely  to  entertain  much  affec- 
tion for  the  son  of  the  man  who  had  banished  them  and 
confiscated  their  property.  And  it  was  not  at  all  impossible 
that  desperate  men,  such  as  they  were,  having  nothing  to 
lose,  but  estates  to  recover,  and  not  being  held  by  religion 
much,  should  cast  away  all  regard  for  the  birth  from  which 
they  had  been  cast  out,  and  make  common  cause  with  a 
Protestant  rising  for  the  chance  of  revenge  and  replace- 
ment. 

However,  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  all  these  things 
occurred  to  me  as  clearly  as  I  have  set  them  down;  only 
that  I  was  in  general  doubt,  and  very  sad  perplexity.  For 
mother  was  so  warm,  and  innocent,  and  so  kind  to  every 
one,  that  knowing  some  little  by  this  time  of  the  English 
constitution,  I  feared  very  greatly  lest  she  should  be  pun- 
ished for  harboring  malcontents.  As  well  as  possible  I 
knew  that  if  any  poor  man  came  to  our  door,  and  cried, 
''  Officers  are  after  me;  for  God's  sake  take  and  hide  me,^' 
mother  would  take  him  in  at  once,  and  conceal  and  feed 
him,  even  though  he  had  been  very  violent;  and,  to  tell 
the  truth,  so  would  both  my  sisters,  and  so  indeed  would  I 


FEEDING  OF  THE  PIGS.  ^57 

do.  "Whence  it  will  be  clear  that  we  were  not  the  sort  of 
people  to  be  safe  among  disturbances. 

Before  I  could  quite  make  up  my  mind  how  to  act  in  this 
difficulty,  and  how  to  get  at  the  rights  of  it  (for  I  would 
not  spy  after  Uncle  Reuben,  though  I  felt  no  great  fear  of 
the  Wizard's  Slough,  and  none  )f  the  man  with  white 
night-cap),  a  difference  came  again  upon  it,  and  a  change 
of  chances.  For  Uncle  Reuben  went  away  as  suddenly  aa 
he  first  had  come  to  us,  giving  no  reason  for  his  departure, 
neither  claiming  the  pony,  and  indeed  leaving  something 
behind  him  of  great  value  to  my  mother.  For  he  begged  her 
to  see  to  his  young  granddaughter  until  he  could  find  op- 
portunity of  fetching  her  safely  to  Dulverton.  Mother 
was  overjoyed  at  this,  as  she  could  not  help  displaying;  and 
Ruth  was  quite  as  much  delighted,  although  she  durst  not 
show  it.  For  at  Dulverton  she  had  to  watch  and  keep 
such  ward  on  the  victuals,  and  the  in  and  out  of  the  shop- 
men, that  it  went  entirely  against  her  heart,  and  she  never 
could  enjoy  herself.  Truly  she  was  an  altered  girl  from 
the  day  she  came  to  us;  catching  our  unsuspicious  manners, 
and  our  free  good-will,  and  hearty  noise  of  laughing. 

By  this  time,  the  harvest  being  done,  and  the  thatching 
of  the  ricks  made  sure  against  south-western  tempests,  and 
all  the  reapers  being  gone,  with  good  money  and  thankful- 
ness, I  began  to  burn  in  spirit  for  the  sight  of  Lorna.  I 
had  begged  my  sister  Annie  to  let  Sally  Snowe  know,  once 
for  all,  that  it  was  not  in  my  power  to  have  anything  more 
to  do  with  her.  Of  course  our  Annie  was  not  to  grieve 
Sally,  neither  to  let  it  appear  for  a  moment  that  I  suspected 
her  kind  views  upon  me,  and  her  strong  regard  for  our  dairy: 
only  I  thought  it  right  upon  our  part  not  to  waste  Sally's 
time  any  longer,  being  a  handsome  wench  as  she  was,  and 
many  young  fellows  glad  to  marry  her. 

And  Annie  did  this  uncommonly  well,  as  she  herself  told 
me  afterward,  having  taken  Sally  in  the  sweetest  manner 
into  her  pure  confidence,  and  opened  half  her  bosom  to 
her  about  my  very  sad  love-affair.  Not  that  she  let  Sally 
know,  of  course,  who  it  was,  or  what  it  was;  only  that  she 
made  her  understand,  without  hinting  at  any  desire  of  it, 
that  there  was  no  chance  now  of  having  me.  Sally  changed 
color  a  little  at  this,  and  then  went  on  about  a  red  cow 
which  had  passed  seven  needles  at  milking-time. 


25B  LORNA  DOONE, 

Inasmuch  as  there  are  two  sorts  of  month  well  recog- 
nized by  the  calendar,  to-wit,  the  lunar  and  the  solar,  I  made 
bold  to  regard  both  my  months,  in  the  absence  of  any  pro- 
vision, as  intended  to  be  strictly  lunar.  Therefore,  upon 
tlie  very  day  when  the  eight  weeks  were  expiring,  forth  I 
went  in  search  of  Lorna,  taking  the  pearl  ring  hopefully, 
and  all  the  new  laid  eggs  I  could  find,  and  a  dozen  and  a 
half  of  small  trout  from  our  brook.  And  the  pleasure  it 
gave  me  to  catch  those  trout,  thinking,  as  every  one  came 
forth  and  danced  upon  the  grass,  how  much  she  would 
enjoy  him,  is  more  than  I  can  now  describe,  although  I 
well  remember  it.  And  it  struck  me  that  after  accepting 
my  ring,  and  saying  how  much  she  loved  me,  it  was  possi- 
ble that  my  queen  might  invite  me  even  to  stay  and  sup 
with  her;  and  so  I  arranged  with  dear  Annie  beforehand, 
who  now  was  the  greatest  comfort  to  me,  to  account  for  my 
absence  if  I  should  be  late. 

But  alas,  I  was  utterly  disappointed;  for  although  I 
waited  and  waited  for  hours,  with  an  equal  amount  both  of 
patience  and  peril,  no  Lorna  ever  appeared  at  all,  nor  even 
the  faintest  sign  of  her.  And  another  thing  occurred  as 
well,  which  vexed  me  more  than  it  need  have  done,  for  so 
small  a  matter.  And  this  was  that  my  little  offering  of 
tlie  trout  and  the  new-laid  eggs  was  carried  off  in  the  cool- 
est .manner  by  that  vile  Carver  Doone.  For  thinking  to 
keep  them  the  fresher  and  nicer,  away  from  so  much  hand- 
ling, I  laid  them  in  a  little  bed  of  reeds  by  the  side  of  the 
water,  and  placed  some  dog-leaves  over  them.  And  when 
I  had  quite  forgotten  about  them,  and  was  watching  from 
my  hiding-place  beneath  the  willow-tree  (for  I  liked  not  to 
enter  Lorna's  bower  without  her  permission,  except  just  to 
peep  that  she  was  not  there),  and  while  I  was  turning  the 
ring  in  my  pocket,  having  just  seen  the  new  moon,  I  be- 
came aware  of  a  great  man  coming  leisurely  down  the  val- 
ley. He  had  a  broad-brimmed  hat,  and  a  leather  jerkin, 
and  heavy  jack-boots  to  his  middle  thigh,  and,  what  was 
worst  of  all  for  me,  on  his  shoulder  he  bore  a  long  carbine. 
Having  nothing  to  meet  him  withal  but  my  staff,  and  de- 
siring to  avoid  disturbance,  I  retired  promptly  into  the 
chasm,  keeping  the  tree  betwixt  us  that  he  might  not 
descry  me,  and  watching  from  behind  the  jut  of  a  rock, 
where  now  I  had  scraped  myself  a  neat  little  hole  for  the 
purpose. 


FEEDING  OF  THE  PIGS.  259 

Presently  the  great  man  reai)peared,  being  now  within 
fifty  yards  of  me,  and  the  light  still  good  enough,  as  he  drew 
nearer,  for  me  to  descry  his  features;  and  though  I  am  not 
a  judge  of  men^s  faces,  there  was  something  in  his  which 
turned  me  cold,  as  though  with  a  kind  of  horror.  Not 
that  it  was  an  ugly  face;  nay,  rather  it  seemed  a  handsome  ^ 
one,  so  far  as  mere  form  and  line  might  go;  full  of  strengtli, ' 
and  vigor,  and  will,  and  steadfast  resolution.  From  the 
short  black  hair  above  the  broad  forehead,  to  the  long  black 
beard  descending  below  the  curt  bold  chin,  there  was  not 
any  curve  or  glimpse  of  weakness  or  of  after-thought; 
nothing  playful,  nothing  pleasant,  nothing  with  a  track  for 
smiles;  nothing  which  a  friend  could  like,  and  laugh  at 
him  for  having.  And  yet  he  might  have  been  a  good  man 
(for  I  have  known  very  good  men  so  fortified  by  their  own 
strange  ideas  of  God):  I  say  that  he  might  have  seemed  a 
good  man,  but  for  the  cold  and  cruel  hankering  of  his 
steel-blue  eyes. 

Now  let  no  one  suppose  for  a  minute  that  I  saw  all  this 
in  a  moment;  for  I  am  very  slow,  and  take  a  long  time  to 
digest  things;  only  I  like  to  set  down,  and  have  done  with 
it,  all  the  results  of  my  knowledge,  though  they  be  not 
manifold.  But  what  I  said  to  myself  just  then  was  no  more 
than  this:  *' What  a  fellow  to  have  Lorna!"  Having  my 
sense  of  right  so  outraged  (although  of  course,  I  would 
never  allow  her  to  go  so  far  as  that),  I  almost  longed  that 
he  might  thrust  his  head  in  to  look  after  me.  For  there  I 
was,  with  my  ash  staff  clubbed,  ready  to  have  at  him,  and 
not  ill  inclined  to  do  so  if  only  he  would  come  where 
strength,  not  fire-arms,  must  decide  it.  However,  he  sus- 
pected nothing  of  my  dangerous  neighborhood,  but  walked 
his  round  like  a  sentinel,  and  turned  at  the  brink  of  the 
water. 

Then,  as  he  marched  back  again  along  the  margin  of  the 
stream,  he  espied  my  little  hoard,  covered  up  with  dog- 
leaves.  He  saw  that  the  leaves  were  upside  down,  and  this 
of  course  drew  his  attention.  I  saw  him  stoop  and  lay 
bare  the  fish,  and  the  eggs  set  a  little  way  from  them;  and 
in  my  simple  heart  I  thought  that  now  he  knew  all  about 
me.  But,  to  my  surprise,  he  seemed  well  pleased;  and  his 
harsh,  short  laughter  came  to  me  without  echo 

**Ha,   ha!    Charlie  boy  I    Fisherman  Charlie,   have    I 


260  LORNA  DOONE. 

caught  thee  setting  bait  for  Lorna?  Now  I  understand  thy 
fishings  and  the  robbing  of  Counselor's  hen-roost.  May  I 
never  have  good  roasting,  if  I  have  it  not  to-night,  and 
roast  thee,  Charlie,  afterward!" 

With  this  he  calmly  packed  up  my  fish,  and  all  the  best 
of  dear  Annie's  eggs,  and-  went  away,  chuckling  stead- 
fastly, to  his  home,  if  one  may  call  it  so.  But  I  was  so 
thoroughly  grieved  and  mortified  by  this  most  impudent 
robbery,  that  I  started  forth  from  my  rocky  screen  with  the 
intention  of  pursuing  him,  until  my  better  sense  arrested 
me,  barely  in  time  to  escape  his  eyes.  For  I  said  to  myself, 
that  even  supposing  I  could  contend  unarmed  with  him,  it 
would  be  the  greatest  folly  in  the  world  to  have  my  secret 
access  known,  and  perhaps  a  fatal  barrier  placed  between 
Lorna  and  myself,  and  1  knew  not  what  trouble  brought 
upon  her,  all  for  the  sake  of  a  few  eggs  and  fishes.  It  was 
better  to  bear  this  trifling  loss,  however  ignominious  and 
goading  to  the  spirit,  than  to  risk  my  love  and  Lorna's 
welfare,  and  perhaps  be  shot  into  the  bargain.  And  I 
think  that  all  will  agree  with  me  that  I  acted  for  the  wisest, 
in  withdrawing  to  my  shelter,  though  deprived  of  eggs  and 
fishes. 

Having  waited  (as  I  said)  until  there  was  no  chance 
whatever  of  my  love  appearing.  I  hastened  homeward  very 
sadly;  and  the  wind  of  early  autumn  moaned  across  the 
moor-land.  All  the  beauty  of  the  harvest,  all  the  gayety 
was  gone,  and  the  early  fall  of  dusk  was  like  a  weight 
upon  me.  Nevertheless,  I  went  every  evening  thencefor- 
ward for  a  fortnight;  hoping,  every  time  in  vain,  to  find  my 
hope  and  comfort.  And  meanwhile  what  perplexed  me 
most  was  that  the  signals  were  replaced,  in  order  as  agreed 
upon,  so  that  Lorna  could  scarcely  be  restrained  by  any 
rigor. 

One  time  I  had  a  narrow  chance  of  being  shot  and  set- 
tled with;  and  it  befell  me  thus.  I  was  waiting  very  care- 
lessly, being  now  a  little  desperate,  at  the  entrance  to  the 
glen,  instead  of  watching  through  my  sight-hole,  as  the 
proper  practice  was.  Suddenly  a  ball  went  by  me  with  a 
whizz  and  whistle,  passing  through  my  hat,  and  sweeping 
it  away  all  folded  up.  My  soft  hat  fluttered  far  down  the 
stream  before  I  had  time  to  go  after  it,  and  with  the  help 
of  both  wind  and  water,  was  fifty  yards  gone  in  a  moment. 


FEEDING  OF  THE  PIGS.  261 

At  this  I  had  just  enough  mind  left  to  shrink  back  very 
suddenly,  and  lurk  very  still  and  closely;  for  I  knew  what 
a  narrow  escape  it  had  been,  as  I  heard  the  bullet,  hard  set 
by  the  powder,  sing  mournfully  down  the  chasm,  like  a 
drone  banished  out  of  the  hive.  And  as  I  peered  through 
my  little  cranny,  I  saw  a  wreath  of  smoke  still  floating 
where  the  thickness  was  of  the  withy-bed;  and  presently 
Carver  Doone  came  forth,  having  stopped  to  reload  his 
piece  perhaps,  and  ran  very  swiftly  to  the  entrance  to  see 
what  he  had  shot. 

Sore  trouble  had  I  to  keep  close  quarters,  from  the  slip- 
periness  of  the  stone  beneath  me,  with  the  water  sliding 
over  it.  My  foe  came  quite  to  the  verge  of  the  fall,  where 
the  river  began  to  comb  over;  and  there  he  stopped  for  a 
minute  or  two,  on  the  utmost  edge  of  dry  land,  upon  the 
very  spot  indeed  where  I  had  fallen  senseless  when  I 
climbed  it  in  my  boyhood.  I  could  hear  him  breathing 
hard  and  grunting,  as  in  doubt  and  discontent,  for  he 
stood  within  a  yard  of  me,  and  I  kept  my  fist  ready  for 
him  if  he  should  discover  me.  Then  at  the  foot  of  the 
water-slide  my  black  hat  suddenly  appeared,  tossing  in 
white  foam,  and  fluttering  like  a  raven  wounded.  Now  I 
had  doubted  which  hat  to  take  when  I  left  home  that  day; 
till  I  thought  that  the  black  became  me  best,  and  might 
seem  kinder  to  Lorna. 

*'  Have  I  killed  thee,  old  bird,  at  last?^'  my  enemy  cried 
in  triumph;  ^''tis  the  third  time  I  have  shot  at  thee,  and 
thou  wast  beginning  to  mock  me.  No  more  of  thy  cursed 
croaking  now,  to  wake  me  in  the  morning.  Ha,  ha!  there 
are  not  many  who  get  three  chances  from  Carver  Doone; 
and  none  ever  go  beyond  it.^' 

I  laughed  within  myself  at  this,  as  he  strode  away  in  his 
triumph;  for  was  not  this  his  third  chance  of  me,  and  he  no 
whit  the  wiser?  And  then  I  thought  that  perhaps  the 
chance  might  some  day  be  on  the  other  side. 

For,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  heartily  tired  of  lurking  and 
playing  bo-peep  so  long;  to  which  "nothing  could  have 
reconciled  me  except  my  fear  for  Lorna.  And  here  I  saw 
was  a  man  of  strength  fit  for  me  to  encounter  such  as  I 
had  never  met,  but  would  be  glad  to  meet  with;  having 
found  no  man  of  late  who  needed  not  my  mercy  at  wrestling 
or  at  single-stick.     And  growing  more  and  more  uneasy^. 


262  LORNA  DOONE, 

as  I  found  no  Lena,  I  would  have  tried  to  force  the 
Doone  Glen  from  i^ie  upper  end,  and  take  my  chance  of 
getting  back,  but  for  Annie  and  her  prayers. 

Now,  that  same  night  I  think  it  was,  or  at  any  rate  the 
next  one,  that  I  noticed  Betty  Muxworthy  going  on  most 
strangely.  She  made  the  queerest  signs  to  me  when 
nobody  was  looking,  and  laid  her  fingers  on  her  lips,  and 
pointed  over  her  shoulder.  But  I  took  little  heed  of  her, 
being  in  a  kind  of  dudgeon,  and  oppressed  with  evil  luck; 
believing,  too,  that  all  she  wanted  was  to  have  some  little 
grumble  about  some  petty  grievance. 

But  presently  she  poked  me  with  the  heel  of  a  fire- 
bundle,  and,  passing  close  to  my  ear,  whispered,  so  that 
none  else  could  hear  her,  "  Larna  Doo-un." 

By  these  words  I  was  so  startled,  that  I  turned  round 
and  stared  at  her;  but  she  pretended  not  to  know  it,  and 
began  with  all  her  might  to  scour  an  empty  crock  with  a 
besom. 

"  Oh,  Betty,  let  me  help  you.  That  work  is  much  too 
hard  for  you/'  I  cried,  with  a  sudden  chivalry,  which  only 
won  rude  answer. 

'*  Zeed  me  a-dooing  of  thic  every  naight  last  ten  year, 
Jan,  wiout  vindin  out  how  hard  it  wor.  But  if  zo  be  thee 
wants  to  help,  carr  peg's  bucket  for  me.  Massy,  if  I  ain't 
forgotten  to  fade  the  pegs  till  now." 

Favoring  me  with  another  wink,  to  which  I  now  paid 
the  keenest  heed,  Betty  went  and  fetched  the  lantern  from 
the  hook  inside  the  door.  Then,  when  she  had  kindled 
it,  not  allowing  me  any  time  to  ask  what  she  was  after,  she 
went  outside,  and  pointed  to  the  great  bock  of  wash,  and 
riddlings,  and  brown  hulkage  (for  we  ground  our  own 
corn  always);  and  though  she  knew  that  Bill  Dadds  and 
Jem  Slocombe  had  full  work  to  carry  it  on  a  pole  (with 
another  to  help  to  sling  it),  she  said  to  me  as  quietly  as  a 
maiden  might  ask  one  to  carry  a  glove,  '*  Jan  Kidd,  carr 
thic  thing  for  me." 

So  I  carried  it  for  her  without  any  words,  wondering 
what  she  was  up  to  next,  and  whether  she  had  ever  heard  of 
being  too  hard  on  the  willing  horse.  And  when  we  came 
to  hog-pound,  she  turned  upon  me  suddenly,  with  the 
lantern  she  was  bearing,  and  saw  that  I  had  the  bock  by 
one  hand  very  easily. 


FEEDING  OF  THE  PIGS.  263 

'*  Jan  Ridd,"  she  said,  ^Hhere  be  no  other  man  in  Eng- 
land cud  a'  dood  it.     Now  thee  shalt  have  Larna." 

While  I  was  wondering  how  my  chance  of  having  Lorna 
could  depend  upon  my  power  to  carry  pig's- wash,  and  how 
Betty  could  have  any  voice  in  the  matter  (which  seemed  to 
depend  upon  her  decision),  and  in  short,  while  I  was  all 
abroad  as  to  her  knowledge  and  everything,  the  pigs,  who 
had  been  fast  asleep  and  dreaming  in  their  emptiness, 
awoke  with  one  accord  at  the  goodness  of  the  smell  around 
them.  They  had  resigned  themselves,  as  even  pigs  do,  to 
a  kind  of  fast,  hoping  to  break  their  fast  more  sweetly  on 
the  morrow  morning.  But  now  they  tumbled  out  all  head- 
long, pigs  below  and  pigs  above,  pigs  point-blank  and  pigs 
across,  pigs  courant  and  pigs  rampant,  but  all  alike  pre- 
pared to  eat,  and  all  in  good  cadence  squeaking. 

**  Tak  smarl  boocket,  and  bale  un  out;  wad  e'  waste  sich 
stoof  as  thic  here  be?"  So  Betty  set  me  to  feed  the  pigs, 
while  she  held  the  lantern;  and  knowing  what  she  was,  I 
saw  that  she  would  not  tell  me  another  word  until  all  the 
pigs  were  served.  And  in  truth  no  man  could  well  look  at 
them  and  delay  to  serve  them,  they  were  all  expressing 
appetite  in  so  forcible  a  manner;  some  running  to  and  fro, 
and  rubbing  and  squealing  as  if  from  starvation,  some 
rushing  down  to  the  oaken  troughs,  and  poking  each  other 
away  from  them;  and  the  kindest  of  all  putting  up  their 
fore  feet  on  the  top  rail  of  the  hog-pound,  and  blinking 
their  little  eyes,  and  grunting  prettily  to  coax  us;  as  who 
should  say,  **  1  trust  you  now;  you  will  be  kind,  I  know, 
and  give  me  the  first  and  the  very  best  of  it." 

^*  Oppen  ge-at  now,  wull  'e,  Jan?  Maind,  young  sow  wi' 
the  baible  back  arlway  hath  first  toorn  of  it,  ^cos  I  brought 
her  up  on  my  lap,  I  did.  Zuck,  zuck,  zuck!  How  her 
stickth  her  tail  up;  do  me  good  to  zee  un!  Now  thiccy 
trough,  thee  zany,  and  tak  thee  girt  legs  out  o'  the  wai. 
Wish  they  wud  gie  thee  a  good  baite,  mak  thee  hop  a  bit 
vaster,  1  reckon.  Hit  that  there  girt  ozebird  over's  back 
wi'  the  broomstick,  he  be  robbing  of  my  young  zow. 
Choog,  choog,  choog!  and  a  drap  more  left  in  the  dipping- 
pail.'' 

"  Come  now,  Betty,"  I  said,  when  all  the  pigs  were  at 
it,  sucking,  swilling,  munching,  guzzling,  thrusting,  and 
ousting,  and  spilling  the  food  upon  the  backs  of  their 


264  LORNA  DOONE. 

brethren  (as  great  men  do  with  their  charity),  "  Come  now, 
Betty,  how  much  longer  am  I  to  wait  for  your  message? 
Surely  I  am  as  good  as  a  pig/' 

*'  Dunno  as  thee  be,  Jan.  No  strakiness  in  thy  bakkon. 
And  now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  Jan,  tnee  zed,  a  wake  agone 
last  Vriday,  as  how  I  had  got  a  girt  be-ard.  Wull  'e  stick 
to  that  now,  Maister  Jan?" 

'*  No,  no,  Betty,  certainly  not;  I  made  a  mistake  about 
it.  I  should  have  said  a  becoming  mustache,  such  as  you 
may  well  be  proud  of.'' 

*'  Then  thee  be  a  liar,  Jan  Ridd.  Zay  so,  laike  a  man, 
lad." 

''Not  exactly  that,  Betty;  but  I  made  a  great  mistake: 
and  I  humbly  ask  your  pardon;  and  if  such  a  thing  as  a 
crown-piece,  Betty " 

"Nofai,  no  fai!"  said  Betty;  however  she  put  it  into 
her  pocket;  "now  tak  my  advice,  Jan;  thee  marry  Zally 
Snowe." 

"  Not  with  all  England  for  her  dowry.  Oh  Betty,  you 
know  better." 

*'Ah's  me!  I  know  much  worse,  Jan.  Break  thy  poor 
mother's  heart  it  will.  And  to  think  of  arl  the  dannger! 
Dost  love  Lama  now  so  much?" 

"  With  all  the  strength  of  my  heart  and  soul.  I  will 
have  her,  or  I  will  die,  Betty." 

'*Wull,  thee  will  die  in  aither  case.  But  it  baint  for 
me  to  argify.     And  do  her  love  thee  too,  Jan  ?" 

*'  I  hope  she  does,  Betty.  I  hope  she  does.  What  do 
you  think  about  it?" 

*'Ah,  then  I  may  hold  my  tongue  to  it.  Knaw  what 
boys  and  maidens  be,  as  well  as  1  knaw  young  pegs.  I 
myzell  been  o'  that  zort  one  taime  every  bit  so  well  as  you 
be."  And  Betty  held  the  lantern  up,  and  defied  me  to 
deny  it;  and  the  light  through  the  horn  showed  a  gleam  in 
her  eyes  such  as  I  had  never  seen  there  before.  *'  No 
odds,  no  odds  about  that,"  she  continued;  '*mak  a  fool  of 
myzell  to  spake  of  it.  Arl  gone  into  church-yard.  But  it 
be  a  lucky  foolery  for  thee,  my  boy,  I  can  tull  'ee.  For  I 
love  to  see  the  love  in  thee.  Coom'th  over  me  as  the 
spring  do,  though  I  be  naigh  three-score.  Now,  Jan,  I 
will  tell  thee  one  thing,  can't  abear  to  zee  thee  vretting  so. 
Hoald  thee  head  down,  same  as  they  pegs  do." 


FEEDING  OF  THE  PIGS.  265 

So  I  bent  my  head  quite  close  to  her;  and  she  whispered 
in  my  ear,  "Goo  of  a  marning,  thee  girt  soft.  Her  can't 
get  out  of  an  avening  now;  her  hath  zent  word  to  me,  to 
tull  'qq." 

In  the  glory  of  my  delight  at  this,  I  bestowed  upon  Betty 
a  chaste  salute,  with  all  the  pigs  for  witnesses;  and  she 
took  it  not  amiss,  considering  how  lon^  she  had  been  out 
of  practice.  But  then  she  fell  back  like,  a  broom  on  its 
handle,  and  stared  at  me,  feigning  anger. 

''  Oh  fai,  oh  fai!  Lunnon  impudence,  I  doubt  I 
year  thee  hast  gone  on  zadlj,  Jan," 


266  LOUNA  DOOMM, 


CHAPTER  XXXm. 

AN   EARLY   MORNING   CALL. 

Of  course  1  was  up  the  very  next  morning  before  the 
October  sunrise,  and  away  through  the  wild  and  the  wood- 
land toward  the  Bagworthy  water,  at  the  foot  of  the  long 
cascade.  The  rising  of  the  sun  was  noble  in  the  cold  and 
warmth  of  it;  peeping  down  the  spread  of  light,  he  raised 
his  shoulder  heavily  over  the  edge  of  gray  mountain  and 
wavering  length  of  upland.  Beneath  his  gaze  the  dew- 
fogs  dipped,  and  crept  to  the  hollow  places;  then  stole 
away  in  line  and  column,  holding  skirts,  and  clinging 
subtly  at  the  sheltering  corners,  where  rock  hung  over 
grass-land;  while  the  brave  lines  of  the  hills  came  forth, 
one  beyond  other  gliding. 

Then  the  woods  arose  in  folds,  like  drapery  of  awakened 
mountains,  stately  with  a  depth  of  awe,  and  memory  of 
the  tempests.  Autumn's  mellow  hand  was  on  them,  as 
they  owned  already,  touched  with  gold,  and  red,  and 
olive;  and  their  joy  toward  the  sun  was  less  to  a  bride- 
groom than  a  father. 

Yet  before  the  floating  impress  of  the  woods  could  clear 
itself,  suddenly  the  gladsome  light  leaped  over  hill  and 
valley,  casting  amber,  blue  and  purple,  and  a  tint  of  rich 
red  rose,  according  to  the  scene  they  lit  on,  and  the  curtain 
flung  around;  yet  all  alike  dispelling  fear  and  the  cloven 
hoof  of  darkness,  all  on  the  wings  of  hope  advancing,  and 
proclaiming  '^  God  is  here."  Then  life  and  joy  sprung  re- 
assured from  every  crouching  hollow;  every  flower,  and 
bud,  and  bird  had  a  fluttering  sense  of  them;  and  all  the 
flashing  of  God's  gaze  merged  into  soft  beneficence. 

So  perhaps  shall  break  upon  us  that  eternal  morning, 
when  crag  and  chasm  shall  be  no  more,  neither  hill  and 
valley,  nor  great  unvintaged  ocean;  when  glory  shall  not 
scare    happiness,  neither    happiness  envy  glory;  but  all 


AN  EAnir  MonmKQ  call,  267 

things  shall  arise  and  shine  in  the  light  of  a  Father's  coun- 
tenance, because  itself  is  risen. 

Who  maketli  His  sun  to  rise  upon  both  the  just  and  the 
unjust.  And  surely  but  for  the  saving  clause,  Doone  Glen 
had  been  in  darkness.  Now,  as  I  stood  with  scanty 
breath — for  few  men  could  have  won  that  climb — at  the 
top  of  the  long  defile,  and  the  bottom  of  the  mountain 
gorge,  all  of  myself,  and  the  pain  of  it,  and  the  C£./k  of  my 
discontent  fell  away  into  wonder  and  rapture.  For  lean 
not  help  seeing  things  now  and  then,  slow-witted  as  I  have 
a  right  to  be;  and  perhaps  because  it  comes  so  rarely,  the 
sight  dwells  with  me  like  a  picture. 

The  bar  of  rock,  with  the  water-cleft  breaking  steeply 
through  it,  stood  bold  and  bare,  and  dark  in  shadow,  gray 
with  red  gullies  down  it.  But  the  sun  was  beginning  to 
glisten  over  the  comb  of  the  eastern  highland,  and  through 
an  archway  of  the  wood  hung  with  old  nests  and  ivy.  The 
lines  of  many  a  leaning  tree  were  thrown,  from  the  cliffs  of 
the  foreland,  down  upon  the  sparkling  grass  at  the  foot  of 
the  western  crags.  And  through  the  dewy  meadow's 
breast,  fringed  with  shade,  but  touched  on  one  side  with 
the  sun-smile,  ran  the  crystal  water,  curving  in  its  bright- 
ness, like  diverted  hope. 

On  either  bank,  the  blades  of  grass,  making  their  last 
autumn  growth,  pricked  their  spears  and  crisped  their 
tuftings  with  the  pearly  purity.  The  tenderness  of  their 
green  appeared  under  the  glaucous  mantle;  while  that  gray 
suffusion,  which  is  the  blush  of  green  life,  spread  its 
damask  chastity.  Even  then  my  soul  was  lifted,  worried 
though  my  mind  was:  who  can  see  such  large,  kind  doings, 
and  not  be  ashamed  of  human  grief? 

Not  only  unashamed  of  grief,  but  much  abashed  with 
joy  was  I,  when  I  saw  my  Lorna  coming,  purer  than  the 
morning  dew,  than  the  sun  more  bright  and  clear.  That 
which  made  me  love  her  so,  that  which  lifted  my  heart  to 
her,  as  the  spring  wind  lifts  the  clouds,  was  the  gayness  of 
her  nature,  and  its  inborn  playfulness.  And  yet  all  this 
with  maiden  shame,  a  conscious  dream  of  things  unknown, 
and  a  sense  of  fate  about  them. 

Down  the  valley  still  she  came,  not  witting  that  I  looked 
at  her,  having  ceased  (through  my  own  misprision)  to  ex- 
pect me  yet  a  while;  or  at  least  she  told  herself  so.     In  the 


j26B  LORN  A  UOONE. 

Joy  of  awakened  life,  and  brightness  of  the  morning,  she 
had  cast  all  care  away,  and  seemed  to  float  upon  the  sun- 
rise, like  a  buoyant  silver  wave.  Suddenly,  at  sight  of  me, 
for  I  leaped  forth  at  once,  in 'fear  of  seeming  to  watch  her 
unawares,  the  bloom  upon  her  cheeks  was  deepened,  and 
the  radiance  of  her  eyes,  and  she  came  to  meet  me  gladly. 

*'  At  last  then,  you  are  come,  John.  I  thought  you  had 
forgotten  me.  I  could  not  make  you  understand — they 
have  kept  me  prisoner  every  evening;  but  come  into  my 
house;  you  are  in  danger  here.*' 

Meanwhile  I  could  not  answer,  being  overcome  with  joy, 
but  followed  to  her  little  grotto,  where  I  had  been  twice 
before.  I  knew  that  the  crowning  moment  of  my  life  was 
coming — that  Lorna  would  own  her  love  for  me. 

She  made  for  a  while  as  if  she  dreamed  not  of  the  mean- 
ing of  my  gaze,  but  tried  to  speak  of  other  things,  falter- 
ing now  and  then,  and  mantling  with  a  richer  damask  below 
her  long  eyelashes. 

'*  This  is  not  what  I  came  to  know,''  I  whispered,  very 
softly;  '*you  know  what  I  am  come  to  ask.'' 

"  If  you  are  come  on  purpose  to  ask  anything,  why  do 
you  delay  so?"  She  turned  away  very  bravely,  but  I  saw 
that  her  lips  were  trembling. 

**  I  delay  so  long  because  I  fear;  because  my  whole  life 
hangs  in  balance  on  a  single  word;  because  what  I  have 
near  me  now  may  never  more  be  near  me  after,  though 
more  than  all  the  world,  or  than  a  thousand  worlds,  to  me." 
As  I  spoke  these  words  of  passion  in  a  low,  soft  voice, 
Lorna  trembled  more  and  more;  but  she  made  no  answer, 
neither  yet  looked  up  at  me. 

"  I  have  loved  you  long  and  long,"  I  pursued,  being  reck- 
less now.  *^  When  you  were  a  little  child,  as  a  boy  I  wor- 
sliiped  you:  then,  when  I  saw  you  a  comely  girl,  as  a  strip- 
ling I  adored  you:  now  that  you  are  a  full-grown  maiden, 
all  the  rest  I  do,  and  more — I  love  you  more  than  tongue 
can  tell,  or  heart  can  hold  in  silence.  I  have  waited  long 
and  long;  and  though  I  am  so  far  below  you,  I  can  wait  no 
longer,  but  must  have  my  answer." 

*'  You  have  been  very  faithful,  John,"  she  murmured  to 
the  fern  and  moss;  *'  I  suppose  I  must  reward  you." 

*'  That  will  not  do  for  me,"  I  said;  '^  I  will  not  have  re- 
luctant liking,  nor  assent  for  pity's  sake;  which  only  means 


AN  EARL  7  MORNING  CALL.  2l69 

endurance.  I  must  have  all  love,  or  none;  I  must  have 
your  heart  of  hearts;  even  as  you  have  mine.  Lorna."     • 

While  I  spoke  she  glanced  up  shyly  through  her  flutter- 
ing lashes,  to  prolong  my  doubt  one  moment,  for  her  own 
delicious  pride.  Then  she  opened  wide  upon  me  all  the 
glorious  depth  and  softness  of  her  loving  eyes,  and  flung 
both  arms  around  my  neck,  and  answered  with  her  heart 
on  mine. 

^'  Darling,  you  have  won  it  all.  I  shall  never  be  my  own 
again.     I  am  yours,  my  own  one,  forever  and  forever. ^^ 

I  am  sure  I  know  not  what  I  did,  or  what  I  said 
thereafter,  being  overcome  with  transport  by  her  words 
and  at  her  gaze.  Only  one  thing  I  remember,  when  she 
raised  her  bright  lips  to  me,  like  a  child,  for  me  to  kiss, 
such  a  smile  of  sweet  temptation  met  me  through  her  flow- 
ing hair,  that  I  almost  forgot  my  manners,  giving  her  no 
time  to  breathe. 

**That  will  do,"  said  Lorna,  gently,  but  violently  blush- 
ing; "for  the  present  that  will  do,  John.  And  now  re- 
member one  thing,  dear.  All  the  kindness  is  to  be  on  my 
side;  and  you  are  to  be  very  distant  as  behooves  to  a  young 
maiden,  except  when  I  invite  you.  But  you  may  kiss  my 
hand,  John;  oh  yes,  you  may  kiss  my  hand,  you  know. 
Ah,  to  be  sure!     I  had  forgotten;  how  very  stupid  of  me!" 

For  by  this  time  I  had  taken  one  sweet  hand  and  gazed 
on  it,  with  the  pride  of  all  the  world  to  think  that  such  a 
lovely  thing  was  mine;  and  then  I  slipped  my  little  ring 
upon  the  wedding-finger;  and  this  time  Lorna  kept  it,  and 
looked  with  fondness  on  its  beauty,  and  clung  to  me  with 
a  flood  of  tears. 

**  Every  time  you  cry,"  said  I,  drawing  her  closer  to  me, 
*'  I  shall  consider  it  an  invitation  not  to  be  too  distant. 
There,  now,  none  shall  make  you  weep.  Darling,  you 
shall  sigh  no  more,  but  live  in  peace  and  happiness  with 
me  to  guard  and  cherish  you:  and  who  shall  dare  to  vex 
you  ?"  But  she  drew  a  long,  sad  sigh,  and  looked  at  the 
ground  with  the  great  tears  rolling,  and  pressed  one  hand 
upon  the  trouble  of  her  pure  young  breast. 

"  It  can  never,  never  be,"  she  murmured  to  herself 
alone:  "who  am  I,  to  dream  of  it?  Something  in  my 
heart  tells  me  it  can  be  so  never,  never." 


270  LORNA  DOONE, 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

TWO   NEGATIVES  MAKE*  AN   AFFIRMATIVE. 

There  was,  however,  no  possibility  of  depressing  me  at 
such  a  time.  To  be  loved  by  Lorna,  the  sweet,  the  pure, 
the  playful  one,  the  fairest  creature  on  God's  earth,  and 
the  most  enchanting,  the  lady  of  high  birth  and  mind; 
that  I,  a  mere  clumsy,  blundering  yeoman,  without  wit,  or 
wealth,  or  lineage,  should  have  won  that  loving  heart  to  be 
my  own  forever,  was  a  thought  no  fears  could  lessen,  and 
no  chance  could  steal  from  me. 

Therefore,  at  her  own  entreaty,  taking  a  very  quick 
adieu,  and  by  her  own  invitation,  an  exceeding  kind  one, 
I  hurried  home  with  deep  exulting,  yet  some  sad  misgiv- 
ings, for  Lorna  had  made  me  promise  now  to  tell  my 
mother  everything;  as,  indeed,  I  always  meant  to  do,  when 
my  suit  should  be  gone  too  far  to  stop.  I  knew,  of  course, 
that  my  dear  mother  would  be  greatly  moved  and  vexed, 
the  heirship  of  Glen  Doone  not  being  a  very  desirable 
dower;  but  in  spite  of  that,  and  all  disappointment  as  to 
little  Ruth  Huckaback,  feeling  my  mother's  tenderness 
and  deep  affection  to  me,  and  forgiving  nature,  I  doubted 
not  that  before  very  long  she  would  view  the  matter  as  I 
did.  Moreover,  I  felt  that,  if  once  I  could  get  her  only  to 
look  at  Lorna,  she  would  so  love  and  glory  in  her,  that  1 
should  obtain  all  praise  and  thanks,  perchance  without 
deserving  them. 

Unluckily  for  my  designs,  who  should  be  sitting  down 
at  breakfast  with  my  mother  and  the  rest  but  Squire 
Faggus,  as  everybody  now  began  to  entitle  him.  I  noticed 
something  odd  about  him,  something  uncomfortable  in  his 
manner,  and  a  lack  of  that  ease  and  humor  which  had 
been  wont  to  distinguish  him.  He  took  his  breakfast  as  it 
came,  without  a  single  joke  about  it,  or  preference  of  this 
to  that,  but  with  sly,  soft  looks  at  Annie,   who  seemed 


TWO  NEGATIVES  MAKE  AN  AFFIRMATIVE.       g"?! 

iniable  to  sit  quiet,  or  to  look  at  any  one  steadfastly.  I 
i'eared  in  my  heart  what  was  coming  on,  and  felt  truly 
sorry  for  poor  mother.  After  breakfast  it  became  my 
duty  to  see  to  the  plowing  of  a  barley-stubble,  ready  for  the 
sowing  of  French  grass,  and  I  asked  Tom  Faggus  to  come 
with  me;  but  he  refused,  and  I  knew  the  reason.  Being 
resolved  to  allow  him  fair  field  to  himself,  though  with 
great  displeasure  that  a  man  of  such  illegal  repute  should 
marry  into  our  family,  which  had  always  been  counted  so 
honest,  I  carried  my  dinner  upon  my  back,  and  spent  the 
whole  day  with  the  furrows. 

When  I  returned.  Squire  Faggus  was  gone;  which 
appeared  to  me  but  a  sorry  sign,  inasmuch  as  if  mother 
had  taken  kindly  to  him  and  to  his  intentions,  she  would 
surely  have  made  him  remain  awhile  to  celebrate  the  occa- 
sion. And  presently  no  doubt  was  left;  for  Lizzie  came 
running  to  meet  me  at  the  bottom  of  the  wood-rick,  and 
cried : 

''  Oh,  John,  there  is  such  a  business!  Mother  is  in  such 
a  state  of  mind,  and  Annie  crying  her  eyes  out!  What  do 
you  think?  You  never  would  guess,  though  I  have  sus- 
pected it  ever  so  long.'' 

**No  need  for  me  to  guess,"  I  replied,  as  though  with 
some  indifference  because  of  her  self-important  air;  **  I 
knew  all  about  it  long  ago.  You  have  not  been  crying 
much,  I  see.     I  should  like  you  better  if  you  had." 

*'  Why  should  I  cry?  I  like  Tom  P'aggus.  He  is  the 
only  one  I  ever  see  with  the  spirit  of  a  man." 

This  was  a  cut,  of  course,  at  me.  Mr.  Faggus  had  won 
the  good-will  of  Lizzie  by  his  hatred  of  the  Doones,  and 
vows  that  if  he  could  get  a  dozen  men  of  any  courage  to 
join  him,  he  would  pull  their  stronghold  about  their  ears 
without  any  more  ado.  This  malice  of  his  seemed  strange 
to  me,  as  he  had  never  suffered  at  their  hands,  so  far,  at 
least,  as  I  knew.  Was  it  to  be  attributed  to  his  jealousy  of 
outlaws  who  excelled  him  in  his  business?  Not  being  good 
at  repartee,  I  made  no  answer  to  Lizzie,  having  found  this 
course  more  irksome  to  her  than  the  very  best  invective; 
and  so  we  entered  the  house  together;  and  mother  sent  at 
once  for  me,  while  I  was  trying  to  console  my  darling  sister 
Annie. 

*'  Oh,  John!  speak  one  good  word  for  me,"  she  cried. 


§7^  LORNA  DOONE, 

with  both  hands  laid  in  mine,  and  her  tearful  eyes  looking 
up  at  me. 

"Not  one,  my  pet,  but  a  hundred,^'  I  answered,  kindly 
embracing  her:  "  have  no  fear,  little  sister;  I  am  going  to 
make  your  case  so  bright,  by  comparison,  I  mean,  that 
mother  will  send  for  you  in  five  minutes,  and  call  yon  her 
best,  her  most  dutiful  child,  and  praise  Cousin  Tom  to  the 
skies,  and  send  a  man  on  horseback  after  him;  and  then 
you  will  have  a  harder  task  to  intercede  for  me,  my  dear." 

"  Oh,  John,  dear  John,  you  won't  tell  her  about  Lorna — • 
oh  not  to-day,  dear.'' 

*^  Yes,  to-day,  and  at  once,  Annie.  I  want  to  have  it 
over,  and  be  done  with  it." 

"Oh,  but  think  of  her,  dear.  I  am  sure  she  could  not 
bear  it,  after  this  great  shock  already." 

"She  will  bear  it  all  the  better,"  said  I;  "the  one  will 
drive  the  other  out.  I  know  exactly  what  mother  is.  She 
will  be  desperately  savage  first  with  you,  and  then  with  me, 
and  then  for  a  very  little  while  with  both  of  us  together; 
and  then  she  will  put  one  against  the  other  (in  her  mind, 
I  mean),  and  consider  which  was  most  to  blame;  and  in 
doing  that  she  will  be  compelled  to  find  the  best  in  either's 
case,  that  it  may  beat  the  other;  and  so  as  the  pleas  come 
before  her  mind,  they  will  gain  upon  the  charges,  both  of 
us  being  her  children,  you  know;  and  before  very  long 
(particularly  if  we  both  keep  out  of  the  way)  she  will 
begin  to  think  that  after  all  she  has  been  a  little  too  hasty; 
and  then  she  will  remember  how  good  we  have  always  beeu 
to  her,  and  how  like  our  father.  Upon  that  she  will  think 
of  her  own  love-time,  and  sigh  a  good  bit,  and  cry  a  little, 
and  then  smile,  and  send  for  both  of  us,  and  beg  our 
pardon,  and  call  us  her  two  darlings." 

"Now,  John,  how  on  earth  can  you  know  all  that?" 
exclaimed  my  sister,  wiping  her  eyes,  and  gazing  at  me 
with  a  soft  bright  smile.  "  Who  on  earth  can  have  told 
you,  John?  People  to  call  you  stupid,  indeed!  Why,  I 
feel  that  all  you  say  is  quite  true,  because  you  describe  so 
exactly  what  I  should  do  myself;  I  mean — I  mean  if  I 
had  two  children,  who  had  behaved  as  we  have  done.  But 
tell  me,  darling  John,  how  you  learned  all  this." 

"Never  you  mind,"  I  replied,  with  a  nod  of  some  con- 
ceit, I  fear;  "  I  must  be  a  fool  if  I  did  not  know  what 
mother  is  by  this  time." 


TWO  NEQA  TIVES  MAKE  AN  AFFJHMaTI  VE.        273 

Now,  inasmuch  as  the  thing  befell  according  to  my  pre- 
diction, what  need  for  me  to  dwell  upon  it,  after  saying 
how  it  would  be?  Moreover,  I  would  regret  to  write  down 
what  mother  said  about  Lorna,  in  her  first  surprise  and 
tribulation;  not  only  because  I  was  grieved  by  the  gross 
injustice  of  it,  and  frightened  mother  with  her  own  words 
(repeated  deeply  after  her);  but  rather  because  it  is  not 
well,  when  people  repent  of  hasty  speech,  to  enter  it  against 
them. 

That  is  said  to  be  the  angels'  business;  and  I  doubt  if  they 
can  attend  to  it  much,  without  doing  injury  to  themselves. 

However,  by  the  afternoon,  when  the  sun  began  to  go 
down  upon  us,  our  mother  sat  on  the  garden  bench,  with 
her  head  on  my  great  otter-skin  waistcoat  (which  was 
water-proof),  and  her  right  arm  around  our  Annie's  waist, 
and  scarcely  knowing  which  of  us  she  ought  to  make  the 
most  of,  or  which  deserved  most  pity.  Not  that  she  had 
forgiven  yet  the  rivals  to  her  love — Tom  Faggus,  I  mean, 
and  Lorna — but  that  she  was  beginning  to  think  a  little 
better  of  them  now,  and  a  vast  deal  better  of  her  own 
children. 

And  it  helped  her  much  in  this  regard,  that  she  was  not 
thinking  half  so  well  as  usual  of  herself,  or  rather  of  her 
own  judgment;  for  in  good  truth  she  had  no  self,  only  as 
it  came  home  to  her,  by  no  very  distant  road,  but  by  way 
of  her  children.  A  better  mother  never  lived;  and  can  I, 
after  searching  all  things,  add  another  word  to  that? 

And  indeed  poor  Lizzie  was  not  so  very  bad;  but  behaved 
(on  the  whole)  very  well  for  her.  She  was  much  to  be 
pitied,  poor  thing,  and  great  allowance  made  for  her,  as 
belonging  to  a  well-grown  family,  and  a  very  comely 
one,  and  feeling  her  own  short-comings.  This  made  her 
leap  to  the  other  extreme,  and  reassert  Tierself  too  much, 
endeavoring  to  exalt  the  mind  at  the  expense  of  the  body; 
because  she  had  the  invisible  one  (so  far  as  can  be  decided) 
in  better  share  than  the  visible.  Not  but  what  she  had 
her  points,  and  very  comely  points  of  body;  lovely  eyes,  to 
wit,  and  verj  beautiful  hands  and  feet  (almost  as  good  as 
Lorna's),  and  a  neck  as  white  as  snow;  but  Lizzie  was  not 
gifted  with  our  gait  and  port,  and  bounding  health. 

Now,  while  we  sat  on  the  garden  bench,  under  the  great 
ash-tree,  we  left  dear  mother  to  take  her  own  way,  and 


274  LOUKA  moNW. 

talk  at  her  own  pleasure.  Children  almost  always  are 
more  wide-awake  than  their  parents.  The  fathers  and  the 
mothers  laugh;  but  the  young  ones  have  the  best  of  them. 
And  now  both  Annie  knew,  and  I,  that  we  had  gotten  the 
best  of  mother;  and  therefore  we  let  her  lay  down  the 
law  as  if  we  had  been  two  dollies. 

*^ Darling  John,"  my  mother  said,  ''your  case  is  a  very 
hard  one.  A  young  and  very  romantic  girl — God  send 
that  I  be  right  in  my  charitable  view  of  her — has  met  an 
equally  simple  boy,  among  great  dangers  and  difficulties, 
from  which  my  son  has  saved  her,  at  the  risk  of  his  life  at 
every  step.  Of  course,  slie  became  attached  to  him,  and 
looked  up  to  him  in  every  way  as  a  superior  being " 

''Come,  now,  mother, ""  I  said;  "if  you  only  saw  Lorna, 
you  would  look  upon  me  as  the  lowest  dirt " 

"No  doubt  I  should,"  my  mother  answered;  "and  the 
king,  and  queen,  and  all  of  the  royal  family.  Well,  this 
poor  angel,  having  made  up  her  mind  to  take  compassion 
upon  my  son,  when  he  had  saved  her  life  so  many  times, 
persuades  him  to  marry  her  out  of  pure  pity,  and  throw 
his  poor  mother  overboard.  And  the  saddest  part  of  it 
all  is  this " 

"  That  my  mother  will  never,  never,  never  understand 
the  truth,"  said  I. 

"That  is  all  I  wish,"  she  answered;  "just  to  get  at  the 
simple  truth  from  my  own  perception  of  it.  John,  you 
are  very  wise  in  kissing  me;  but  perhaps  you  would  not  be 
so  wise  in  bringing  Lorna  for  an  afternoon,  just  to  see 
what  she  thinks  of  me.  There  is  a  good  saddle  of  mutton 
now,  and  there  are  some  very  good  sausages  left  on  the 
blue  dish  with  an  anchor,  Annie,  from  the  last  little  sow 
we  killed." 

"As  if  Lorna  would  eat  sausages!"  said  I,  with  appear- 
ance of  high  contempt,  though  rejoicing  all  the  while  that 
mother  seemed  to  have  her  name  so  pat;  and  she  pro- 
nounced it  in  a  manner  which  made  my  heart  leap  to  my 
ears:  "  Lorna  to  eat  sausages!" 

"I  don't  see  why  she  shouldn't,"  my  mother  answered, 
smiling;  "if  she  means  to  be  a  farmer's  wife,  she  must 
take  to  farmers'  ways,  I  think.  What  do  vou  sav, 
Annie?"  ^  y> 

"She  will  eat  whatever  John  desires,  I  should  hope/' 
said  Annie,  gravely;  "particularly  as  I  made  them," 


TWO  NEGA  TIVES  MAKE  AN  A  FFIRMA  TIVE.        275 

"Oh,  that  I  could  only  get  the  chance  of  trying  her!" 
I  answered.  "  If  you  could  once  behold  her,  mother,  you 
would  never  let  her  go  again.  And  she  would  love  you 
with  all  her  heart,  she  is  so  good  and  gentle." 

"  That  is  a  lucky  thing  for  me."  Saying  this,  my 
mother  wept,  as  she  had  been  doing  off  and  on,  when  no 
one  seemed  to  look  at  her;  '*  otherwise,  I  suppose,  John, 
she  would  very  soon  turn  me  out  of  the  farm,  having  you 
so  completely  under  her  thumb,  as  she  seems  to  have.  I 
see  now  that  my  time  is  over.  Lizzie  and  I  will  seek  our 
fortunes.     It  is  wiser  so." 

''  Now,  mother,"  I  cried,  "will  you  have  the  kindness 
not  to  talk  any  nonsense?  Everything  belongs  to  you; 
and  so,  I  hope,  your  children  do.  And  you,  in  turn, 
belong  to  us;  as  you  have  proved  ever  since — oh,  ever 
since  we  can  remember.  Why  do  you  make  Annie  cry  so? 
You  ought  to  know  better  than  that." 

Mother,  upon  this,  went  over  all  the  things  she  had  done 
before;  how  many  times  I  know  not;  neither  does  it 
matter.  Only  she  seemed  to  enjoy  it  more,  every  time  of 
doing  it.  And  then  she  said  she  was  an  old  fool,  and 
Annie  (like  a  thorough  girl)  pulled  her  one  gray  hair  out. 


76  LORNA  BOONS. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

RUTH    IS   NOT   LIKE   LORNA. 

Although,  by  our  mother's  reluctant  consent,  a  large 
part  of  the  obstacles  between  Annie  and  her  lover  appeared 
to  be  removed,  on  the  other  hand  Lorna  and  myself  gained 
little,  except  as  regarded  comfort  of  mind,  and  some  ease 
to  the  conscience.  Moreover,  our  chance  of  frequent 
meetings  and  delightful  converse  was  much  impaired,  at 
least  for  the  present;  because  though  mother  was  not 
aware  of  my  narrow  escape  from  Carver  Doone,  she  made 
me  promise  never  to  risk  my  life  by  needless  visits.  And 
upon  this  point — that  is  to  say,  the  necessity  of  the  visit — 
she  was  well  content,  as  she  said,  to  leave  me  to  my  own 
good  sense  and  honor;  only  begging  me  always  to  tell  her 
of  my  intention  beforehand.  This  pledge,  however,  for 
her  own  sake,  I  declined  to  give,  knowing  how  wretched 
she  would  be  during  all  the  time  of  my  absence,  and  on 
that  account  I  promised  instead,  that  I  would  always  give 
her  a  full  account  of  my  adventure  upon  returning. 

Now  my  mother,  as  might  be  expected,  began  at  once  to 
cast  about  for  some  means  of  relieving  me  from  all  further 
peril,  and  herself  from  great  anxiety.  She  was  full  of 
T)lans  foi  fetching  Lorna  in  some  wonderful  manner  out  of 
the  power  of  the  Doones  entirely,  and  into  her  own  hands, 
where  she  was  to  remain  at  least  a  twelvemonth,  learning 
all  mother  and  Annie  could  teach  her  of  dairy  business, 
and  farm-house  life,  and  the  best  mode  of  packing  butter. 
And  all  this  arose  from  my  happening  to  say,  without 
meaning  anything,  how  the  poor  dear  had  longed  for  quiet, 
and  a  life  of  simplicity,  and  a  rest  away  from  violence! 
Bless  thee,  mother — now  long  in  heaven,  there  is  no  need 
to  bless  thee;  but  it  often  makes  a  dimness  now  in  my 
well-worn  eyes,  when  I  think  of  thy  loving  kindness, 
warmth  and  romantic  innocence. 


H  UTH  IS  NOT  LIKE  LORN  A.  277 

As  to  stealing  my  beloved  from  that  vile  Glen  Doone,  the 
deed  itself  was  not  impossible,  nor  beyond  my  daring;  but, 
in  the  first  place,  would  she  come,  leaving  her  old  grand- 
father to  die,  without  her  tendance?  And  even  if,  through 
fear  of  Carver  and  that  wicked  Counselor,  she  should  con- 
sent to  fly,  would  it  be  possible  to  keep  her  without  a  regi- 
ment of  soldiers?  Would  not  the  Doones  at  once  ride 
forth  to  scour  the  country  for  their  queen,  and  finding 
her  (as  they  must  do),  burn  our  house  and  murder  us,  and 
carry  her  back  triumphantly? 

All  this  I  laid  before  my  mother,  and  to  such  effect  that 
she  acknowledged,  with  a  sigh  that  nothing  else  remained  for 
me  (in  the  present  state  of  matters)  except  to  keep  a  care- 
ful watch  upon  Lorna  from  safe  distance,  observe  the 
policy  of  the  Doones,  and  wait  for  a  tide  in  their  affairs. 
Meanwhile  I  might  even  fall  in  love  (as  mother  unwisely 
hinted)  with  a  certain  more  peaceful  heiress,  although  of 
inferior  blood,  who  would  be  daily  at  my  elbow.  I  am  not 
sure  but  what  dear  mother  herself  would  have  been  disap- 
pointed had  I  proved  myself  so  fickle;  and  my  disdain  and 
indignation  at  the  mere  suggestion  did  not  so  much  dis- 
please her,  for  she  only  smiled  and  answered: 

*'  Well,  it  is  not  for  me  to  say;  God  knows  what  is  good 
foi  us.  Likings  will  not  come  to  order;  otherwise  I  should 
not  be  where  I  am  this  day.  And  of  one  thing  I  am  rather 
glad;  Uncle  Reuben  well  deserves  that  his  pet  scheme 
should  miscarry — he  who  called  my  boy  a  coward,  an 
ignoble  coward,  because  he  would  not  join  some  crack- 
brained  plan  against  the  valley  which  sheltered  his  beloved 
one!  And  all  the  time  this  dreadful  'coward'  risking 
his  life  daily  there,  without  a  word  to  any  one!  How  glad 
1  am  that  you  will  not  have,  for  all  her  miserable  money, 
that  little  dwarfish  granddaughter  of  the  insolent  old 
miser!'' 

She  turned,  and  by  her  side  was  standing  poor  Ruth 
Huckaback  herself,  white  and  sad,  and  looking  steadily  at 
my  mother's  face,  which  became  as  red  as  a  plum,  while 
her  breath  deserted  her. 

*'  Jf  you  please,  madam,"  said  the  little  maiden,  with  her 
large  calm  eyes  unwavering,  ^'  it  is  not  my  fault,  but  God 
Almighty's,  that  I  am  a  little  dwarfish  creature.  I  knew 
not  that  you  regarded  me  with  so  much  contempt  on  that 


278  LORNA  BOONE. 

account;  neither  have  you  told  my  grandfather,  at  least 
within  my  hearing,  that  he  was  an  insolent  old  mJser. 
When  I  return  to  Dulverton,  which  I  trust  to  do  to- 
morrow (for  it  is  too  late  to-day),  I  shall  be  careful  not  to 
tell  him  your  opinion  of  him,  lest  I  should  thwart  any 
schemes  you  may  have  upon  his  property.  I  thank  you  all 
for  your  kindness  to  me,  which  has  been  very  great;  far 
more  than  a  little  dwarfish  creature  could,  for  her  own  sake, 
expect.  I  will  only  add,  for  your  further  guidance,  one 
more  little  truth.  It  is  by  no  means  certain  that  my  grand- 
father will  settle  any  of  his  miserable  money  upon  me.  If 
I  offend  him,  as  I  would  in  a  moment,  for  the  sake  of  a 
brave  and  straightforward  man  " — here  she  gave  me  a  glance 
which  I  scarcely  knew  what  to  do  with — ''  my  grandfather, 
upright  as  he  is,  would  leave  me  without  a  shilling.  And 
I  often  wish  it  were  so.     So  many  miseries  come  upon  me 

from  the  miserable  money "    Here  she  broke  down, 

and  burst  out  crying,  and  ran  away  with  a  faint  good-by, 
while  we  three  looked  at  one  another,  and  felt  that  we  had 
the  worst  of  it. 

'*  Impudent  little  dwarf!"  said  my  mother,  recovering 
her  breath  after  ever  so  long.  "  Oh,  John,  how  thankful 
you  ought  to  be!     What  a  life  she  would  have  led  you!'' 

"Well,  I  am  sure!''  said  Annie,  throwing  her  arms 
around  poor  mother;  "  who  could  have  thought  that  little 
atomy  had  such  an  outrageous  spirit!  For  my  part,  I 
cannot  think  how  she  could  have  been  sly  enough  to  hide 
it  in  that  crafty  manner,  that  John  might  think  her  an 
angel!" 

**Well,  for  my  part,"  I  answered,  laughing,  *'I  never 
admired  Ruth  Huckaback  half  or  a  quarter  so  much  before. 
She  is  rare  stuff.  I  would  have  been  glad  to  have  married 
her  to-morrow,  if  I  had  never  seen  my  Lorna." 

**And  a.  nice  nobody  1  should  have  been,  in  my  own 
house!"  cried  mother;  *'I  never  can  be  thankful  enough  to 
darling  Lorna  for  saving  me.  Did  you  see  how  her  eyes 
flashed?" 

"That  I  did;  and  very  fine  they  were.  Now  nine 
maidens  out  of  ten  would  have  feigned  not  to  have  heard 
one  word  that  was  said,  and  have  borne  black  malice  in 
their  hearts.  Come,  Annie,  now,  would  not  you  have 
done  so?" 


RVTH  IS  NOT  LIKE  LORNA.  279 

"I  think,"  said  Annie,  ''although  of  course  I  cannot  tell 
— you  know,  John — that  1  should  have  been  ashamed  at 
hearing  what  was  never  meant  for  me,  and  should  have 
been  almost  as  angry  with  myself  as  anybody." 

''  So  you  would,"  replied  my  mother;  "  so  any  daughter 
of  mine  would  have  done,  instead  of  railing  and  reviling. 
However,  I  am  very  sorry  that  any  words  of  mine  which 
the  poor  little  thing  chose  to  overhear  should  have  made 
her  so  forget  herself.  I  shall  beg  her  pardon  before  she 
goes,  and  I  shall  expect  her  to  beg  mine. " 

''That  she  will  never  do,"  said  I;  "a  more  resolute  little 
maiden  never  yet  had  right  upon  her  side;  although  it  was 
a  mere  accident.  I  might  have  said  the  same  thing 
myself;  and  she  was  hard  upon  you,  mother,  dear." 

After  this  we  said  no  more,  at  least  about  that  matter; 
and  little  Ruth,  the  next  morning,  left  us,  in  spite  of  all 
we  could  do.  She  vowed  an  everlasting  friendship  to  my 
younger  sister  Eliza;  but  she  looked  at  Annie  with  some 
resentment,  when  they  said  good-by,  for  being  so  much 
taller.  At  any  rate,  so  Annie  fancied,  but  she  may  have 
been  quite  wrong.  I  rode  beside  the  little  maid  till  far 
beyond  Exeford,  when  all  danger  of  the  moor  was  past, 
and  then  I  left  her  with  John  Fry,  not  wishing  to  be  too 
particular,  after  all  the  talk  about  her  money.  She  had 
tears  in  her  eyes  when  she  bade  me  farewell,  and  she  sent 
a  kind  message  home  to  mother,  and  promised  to  come 
again  at  Christmas,  if  she  could  win  permission. 

Upon  the  whole,  my  opinion  was  that  she  had  behaved 
uncommonly  well  for  a  maid  whose  self-love  was  outraged; 
with  spirit,  I  mean,  and  proper  pride;  and  yet  with  a  great 
endeavor  to  forgive,  whicn  is,  meseems,  the  hardest  of  all 
things  to  a  woman,  outside  of  her  own  family. 

After  this,  for  another  month,  nothing  worthy  of  notice 
happened,  except,  of  course,  that  I  found  it  needful,  ac- 
cording to  the  strictest  good  sense  and  honor,  to  visit 
Lorna  immediately  after  my  discourse  with  mother,  and 
to  tell  her  all  about  it.  My  beauty  gave  me  one  sweet  kiss 
with  all  her  heart  (as  she  always  did,  when  she  kissed  at 
all),  and  I  begged  for  one  more  to  take  to  our  mother,  and 
before  leaving  I  obtained  it.  It  is  not  for  me  to  tell  all 
she  said,  even  supposing  (what  is  not  likely)  that  any  one 
cared  to  know  it,  being  more  and  more  peculiar  to  ourselves 


280  LOHNA  doone, 

and  no  one  else.  But  one  thing  that  she  said  was  this,  and 
I  took  good  care  to  carry  it,  word  for  word,  to  my  mother 
and  Annie: 

'*  I  never  can  believe,  dear  John,  that  after  all  the  crime 
and  outrage  wrought  by  my  reckless  family,  it  ever  can  be 
meant  for  me  to  settle  down  to  peace  and  comfort  in  a 
simple  household.  With  all  my  heart  I  long  for  home; 
any  home,  however  dull  and  wearisome  to  those  used  to  it, 
would  seem  a  paradise  to  me  if  only  free  from  brawl  and 
tumult,  and  such  as  I  could  call  my  own.  But  even  if 
God  would  allow  me  this,  in  lieu  of  my  wild  inheritance, 
it  is  quite  certain  that  the  Doones  never  can,  and  never 
will." 

Again,  when  I  told  her  how  my  mother  and  Annie,  as 
well  as  myself,  longed  to  have  her  at  Plovers  Barrows,  and 
teach  her  all  the  quiet  duties  in  which  she  was  sure  to  take 
such  delight,  she  only  answered,  with  a  bright  blush,  that 
while  her  grandfather  was  living  she  would  never  leave 
him;  and  that  even  if  she  were  free,  certain  ruin  was  all 
she  should  bring  to  any  house  that  received  her,  at  least 
within  the  utmost  reach  of  her  amiable  family.  This  was 
too  plain  to  be  denied;  and  seeing  my  dejection  at  it,  she 
told  me  bravely  that  we  must  hope  for  better  times,  if 
possible,  and  asked  how  long  I  would  wait  for  her. 

"  Not  a  day,  if  I  had  my  will,''  I  answered,  very  warmly; 
at  which  she  turned  away  confused,  and  would  not  look  at 
me  for  a  while;  "  but  all  my  life,"  I  went  on  to  say,  ''  if 
my  fortune  is  so  ill.-  And  how  long  would  you  wait  for 
me,  Lorna?" 

*'  Till  I  could  get  you,"  she  answered  slyly,  with  a  smile 
which  was  brighter  to  me  than  the  brightest  wit  could  be. 
"And  now,"  she  continued,  ''you  bound  me,  John,  with 
a  very  beautiful  ring  to  you;  and  when  I  dare  not  wear  it, 
I  carry  it  always  on  my  heart.  But  I  will  bind  you  to  me, 
you  dearest,  with  the  very  poorest  and  plainest  thing  that 
ever  you  set  eyes  on.  I  could  give  you  fifty  fairer  ones, 
but  they  would  not  be  honest;  and  I  love  you  for  your 
honesty,  and  nothing  else,  of  course,  John;  so  don't  you 
be  conceited.  Look  at  it;  what  a  queer  old  thing!  There 
are  some  ancient  marks  upon  it,  very  grotesque  and  won- 
derful; it  looks  like  a  cat  in  a  tree  almost;  but  never  mind 
what  it  looks  like.     This  old  ring  must  have  been  a  giant's; 


RUTH  IS  NOT  LIKE  LORNA.  281 

therefore  it  will  fit  you,  perhaps,  you  enormous  John.  It 
has  been  on  the  front  of  my  old  glass  necklace  (which  my 
grandfather  found  them  taking  away,  and  very  soon  made 
them  give  back  again)  ever  since  I  can  remember,  and  long 
before  that,  as  some  woman  told  me.  Now  you  seem  very 
greatly  amazed;  pray  what  thinks  my  lord  of  it?" 

"  That  it  is  worth  fifty  of  the  pearl  thing  which  I  gave 
you,  you  darling;  and  that  I  will  not  take  it  from  you." 

'*  Then  you  will  never  take  me,  that  is  all.  I  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  a  gentleman " 

"  No  gentleman,  dear — a  yeoman." 

"Very  well,  a  yeoman — nothing  to  do  with  a  yeoman 
who  will  not  accept  my  love-gage.  So,  if  you  please,  give 
it  back  again,  and  take  your  lovely  ring  back. 

She  looked  at  me  in  such  a  manner,  half  in  earnest,  half 
in  jest,  and  three  times  three  in  love,  that  in  spite  of  all 
good  resolutions,  and  her  own  faint  protest,  I  was  forced  to 
abandon  all  firm  ideas,  and  kiss  her  till  she  was  quite 
ashamed,  and  her  head  hung  on  my  bosom,  with  the  night 
of  her  hair  shed  over  me.  Then  I  placed  the  pearl  ring 
back  on  the  soft  elastic  bend  of  the  finger  she  held  up  to 
scold  me;  and  on  my  own  smallest  finger  drew  the  heavy 
hoop  she  had  given  me.  I  considered  this  with  satisfaction, 
until  my  darling  recovered  herself;  and  then  I  began  very 
gravely  about  it,  to  keep  her  (if  I  could)  from  chiding  me: 

"Mistress  Lorna,  this  is  not  the  ring  of  any  giant.  It 
is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  very  ancient  thumb-ring, 
such  as  once  in  my  father's  time  was  plowed  up  out  of  the 
ground  in  our  farm,  and  sent  to  learned  doctors,  who  told 
us  all  about  it,  but  kept  the  ring  for  their  trouble.  I  will 
accept  it,  my  own  one  love;  and  it  shall  go  to  my  grave 
with  me."  And  so  it  shall,  unless  there  be  villains  who 
would  dare  to  rob  the  dead. 

Now  I  have  spoken  about  this  ring  (though  I  scarcely 
meant  to  do  so,  and  would  rather  keep  to  myself  things  so 
very  holy)  because  it  holds  an  important  part  in  the  history 
of  my  Lorna.  I  asked  her  where  the  glass  necklace  was 
from  which  the  ring  was  fastened,  and  which  she  had  worn 
in  her  childhood,  and  she  answered  that  she  hardly  knew, 
but  remembered  that  her  grandfather  had  begged  her  to 
give  it  up  to  him  when  she  was  ten  years  old  or  so,  and  had 
promised  to  keep  it  for  her  until  she  could  take  care  of  it; 


283  LORNA  BOONE, 

at  the  same  time  giving  her  back  the  ring,  and  fastening  it 
upon  her  pretty  neck,  and  telling  her  to  be  proud  of  it. 
And  so  she  always  had  been,  and  now  from  her  sweet  breast 
she  took  it,  and  it  became  John  Ridd's  delight. 

All  this,  or  at  least  great  part  of  it,  I  told  my  mother 
truly,  according  to  my  promise;  and  she  was  greatly  pleased 
with  Lorna  for  having  been  so  good  to  me,  and  for  speak- 
ing so  very  sensibly;  and  then  she  looked  at  the  great  gold 
ring,  but  could  by  no  means  interpret  it.  Only  she  was 
quite  certain,  as  indeed  I  myself  was,  that  it  must  have 
belonged  to  an  ancient  race  of  great  consideration,  and 
high  rank,  in  their  time.  Upon  which  I  was  for  taking  it 
off,  lest  it  should  be  degraded  by  a  common  farmer's  finger. 
But  mother  said,  '*No,"  with  tears  in  her  eyes;  '^if  the 
common  farmer  had  won  the  great  lady  of  the  ancient  race, 
what  were  rings  and  Old- World  trinkets,  when  compared 
to  the  living  jewel?"  Being  quite  of  her  opinion  in  this, 
and  loving  the  ring  (which  had  no  gem  in  it)  as  the  token 
of  my  priceless  gem,  I  resolved  to  wear  it  at  any  cost,  ex- 
cept when  I  should  be  plowing,  or  doing  things  likely  to 
break  it;  although  I  must  own  that  it  felt  very  queer  (for 
I  never  had  throttled  a  finger  before),  and  it  looked  very 
queer,  for  a  length  of  time,  upon  my  great  hard-working 
hand. 

And  before  I  got  used  to  my  ring,  or  people  could  think 
that  it  belonged  to  me  (plain  and  ungarnished  though  it 
was),  and  before  I  went  to  see  Lorna  again,  having  failed 
to  find  any  necessity,  and  remembering  my  duty  to  mother, 
we  all  had  something  else  to  think  of,  not  so  pleasant,  and 
more  puzzling. 


JOHN  RETURNS  TO  BUSINESS.  283 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

JOHN   RETURNS  TO   BUSINESS. 

Now  November  was  upon  us,  and  we  had  kept  Allhal- 
lowmass,  with  roasting  of  skewered  apples  (like  so  many 
shuttlecocks),  and  after  that  the  day  of  Fawkes,  as  became 
good  Protestants,  with  merry  bonfires  and  burned  batatas, 
and  plenty  of  good  feeding  in  honor  of  our  religion;  and 
then,  while  we  were  at  wheat-sowing,  another  visitor 
arrived. 

This  was  Master  Jeremy  Stickles,  who  had  been  a  good 
friend  to  me  (as  described  before)  in  London,  and  had 
earned  my  mother's  gratitude,  so  far  as  ever  he  chose  to 
liave  it.  And  he  seemed  inclined  to  have  it  all;  for  he 
made  our  farm-house  his  headquarters,  and  kept  us  quite 
at  his  beck  and  call,  going  out  at  any  time  of  the  evening, 
and  coming  back  at  any  time  of  the  morning,  and  always 
expecting  us  to  be  ready,  whether  with  horse,  or  man,  or 
maiden,  or  fire,  or  provisions.  We  knew  that  he  was  em- 
ployed somehow  upon  the  service  of  the  King,  and  had  at 
different  stations  certain  troopers  and  orderlies,  quite  at 
his  disposal:  also  we  knew  that  he  never  went  out,  nor 
even  slept  in  his  bedroom,  without  heavy  fire-arms  well- 
loaded,  and  a  sharp  sword  nigh  at  hand;  and  that  he  held 
a  great  commission,  under  royal  signet,  requiring  all  good 
subjects,  all  officers  of  whatever  degree,  and  especially  jus- 
tices of  the  peace,  to  aid  him  to  the  utmost,  with  person, 
beast,  and  chattel,  or  to  answer  it  at  their  peril. 

Now  Master  Jeremy  Stickles,  of  course,  knowing  well 
what  women  are,  durst  not  open  to  any  of  them  the  nature 
of  his  instructions.  But  after  a  while,  perceiving  that  I 
could  be  relied  upon,  and  that  it  was  a  great  discomfort 
not  to  have  me  with  him,  he  took  me  aside  in  a  lonely 
place,  and  told  me  nearly  everything;  having  bound  me 


284  LOitNA  BOONE. 

first  by  oath  not  to  impart  to  any  one,  without  his  own  per- 
mission, until  all  was  over. 

But  at  this  present  time  of  writing,  all  is  over  long  ago; 
ay,  and  forgotten  too,  I  ween,  except  by  those  who 
suffered.  Therefore  may  I  tell  the  whole  without  any 
breach  of  confidence.  Master  Stickles  was  going  forth 
upon  his  usual  night  journey,  when  he  met  me  coming 
home,  and  I  said  something  half  in  jest,  about  his  zeal  and 
secrecy;  upon  which  he  looked  all  around  the  yard,  and 
led  me  to  an  open  space  in  the  clover-field  adjoining. 

"John,"  he  said,  "you  have  some  right  to  know  the 
meaning  of  all  this,  being  trusted  as  you  were  by  the  Lord 
Chief-justice.  But  he  found  you  scarcely  supple  enough, 
neither  gifted  with  due  brains." 

"Thank  God  for  that  same,"  I  answered,  while  he 
tapped  his  head,  to  signify  his  own  much  larger  allowance. 
Then  he  made  me  bind  myself,  which  in  an  evil  hour  I 
did,  to  retain  his  secret;  and  after  that  he  went  on 
solemnly,  and  with  much  importance. 

"  There  be  some  people  fit  to  plot,  and  others  to  be 
plotted  against,  and  others  to  unravel  plots,  which  is  the 
highest  gift  of  all.  This  last  hath  fallen  to  my  share,  and 
a  very  thankless  gift  it  is,  although  a  rare  and  choice  one. 
Much  of  peril,  too,  attends  it.  Daring  courage  and  great 
coolness  are  as  needful  for  the  work  as  ready  wit  and  spotless 
honor.  Therefore,  His  Majesty's  advisers  have  chosen  me 
for  this  high  task,  and  they  could  not  have  chosen  a  better 
man.  Although  you  have  been  in  London,  Jack,  much 
longer  than  you  wished  it,  you  are  wholly  ignorant,  of 
course,  in  matters  of  state  and  public  weal." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "no  doubt  but  I  am;  and  all  the  better 
for  me.  Although  I  heard  a  deal  of  them;  for  everybody 
was  talking,  and  ready  to  come  to  blows,  if  only  it  could 
be  done  without  danger.  But  one  said  this,  and  one  said 
that,  and  they  talked  so  much  about  Birminghams,  and 
Tantivies,  and  Whigs,  and  Tories,  and  Protestant  flails, 
and  such  like,  that  I  was  only  too  glad  to  have  my  glass, 
and  clink  my  spoon  for  answer." 

"  Right,  John;  thou  art  right  as  usual.  Let  the  King 
go  his  own  gait.  He  hath  too  many  mistresses  to  be  ever 
England's  master.  Nobody  need  fear  him,  for  he  is  not 
like  his  father:  he  will  have  his  own  way,  'tis  true,  but 


JOHN  RETURNS  TO  BUSINESS,  285 

without  stopping  other  folk  of  theirs:  and  well  he  knows 
what  women  are,  for  he  never  asks  them  questions.  Now, 
heard  you  much  in  London  town  about  the  Duke  of 
Monmouth?" 

'*  Not  so  very  much,"  I  answered;  "  not  half  so  much  as 
in  Devonshire:  only  that  he  was  a  hearty  man,  and  a  very 
handsome  one,  and  now  was  banished  by  the  Tories;  and 
most  people  wished  he  was  coming  back,  instead  of  the 
Duke  of  York,  who  was  trying  boots  in  Scotland." 

''Things  are  changed  since  you  were  in  town.  The 
Whigs  are  getting  up  again,  through  the  folly  of  the 
Tories  in  killing  poor  Lord  Russell;  and  now  this  Master 
Sidney  (if  my  Lord  condemns  him)  will  make  it  worse 
again."  There  is  much  disaffection  everywhere,  and  it 
must  grow  to  an  outbreak.  The  King  hath  many  troops 
in  London,  and  meaneth  to  bring  more  from  Tangier;  but 
he  cannot  command  these  country  places;  and  the  trained 
bands  cannot  help  him  much,  even  if  they  would.  Now, 
do  you  understand  me,  John?" 

''In  truth,  not  L  I  see  not  what  Tangier  hath  to  do 
with  Exmoor,  nor  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  with  Jeremy 
Stickles." 

"  Thou  great  clod,  put  it  the  other  way.  Jeremy  Stick- 
les may  have  much  to  do  about  the  Duke  of  Monmouth. 
The  Whigs  having  failed  of  Exclusion,  and  having  been 
punished  bitterly  for  the  blood  they  shed,  are  ripe  for  any 
violence.  And  the  turn  of  the  balance  is  now  to  them. 
Seesaw  is  the  fashion  of  England  always;  and  the  Whigs 
will  soon  be  the  top-sawyers." 

"  But,"  said  1,  still  more  confused,  "  '  The  King  is  the 
top-sawyer,*  according  to  our  proverb.  How,  then,  can 
the  Whigs  be?" 

"Thou  art  a  hopeless  ass,  John;  better  to  sew  with  a 
chestnut  than  to  teach  thee  the  constitution.  Let  it  be  so; 
let  it  be.  I  have  seen  a  boy  of  five  years  old  more  apt  at 
politics  than  thou.  Nay,  look  not  offended,  lad.  It  is  my 
fault  for  being  over-deep  to  thee.  I  should  have  consid- 
ered thy  intellect." 

"Nay,  Master  Jeremy,  make  no  apologies.  It  is  I  that 
should  excuse  myself;  but  God  knows  I  have  no  politics." 

"Stick  to  that,  my  lad,"  he  answered;  "so  shalt  thou 
die  easier.     Now,  in  ten  words  (without  parties,  or  trying 


286  LORNA  DOONE, 

thy  poor  brain  too  much),  I  am  here  to  watch  the  gather- 
ing of  a  secret  plot,  not  so  much  against  the  King  as 
against  the  due  succession." 

''Now,  I  understand  at  last.  But,  Master  Stickles,  you 
might  have  said  all  that  an  hour  ago  almost." 

*'  It  would  have  been  better,  if  I  had,  to  thee,"  he  re- 
plied, with  much  compassion;  "thy  hat  is  nearly  off  thy 
head  with  the  swelling  of  brain  I  have  given  thee.  Blows, 
blows,  are  thy  business.  Jack.  There  thou  art  in  thine 
element.  And,  haply,  this  business  will  bring  thee  plenty, 
even  for  thy  great  head  to  take.  Now  hearken  to  one  who 
wishes  thee  well,  and  plainly  sees  the  end  of  it;  stick  thou 
to  the  winning  side,  and  have  naught  to  do  with  the  other 
one." 

''  That,"  said  I,  in  great  haste  and  hurry,  is  the  very 
thing  I  want  to  do,  if  1  only  knew  which  was  the  winning 
side,  for  the  sake  of  Lorna — that  is  to  say,  for  the  sake  of 
my  dear  mother  and  sisters,  and  the  farm." 

"Ha!"  cried  Jeremy  Stickles,  laughing  at  the  redness 
of  my  face — *' Lorna,  saidst  thou;  now,  what  Lorna?  Is 
it  the  name  of  a  maiden,  or  a  light-o'-love?" 

"  Keep  to  your  own  business,"  I  answered,  very  proudly; 
"spy  as  much  as  e'er  thou  wilt,  and  use  our  house  for 
doing  it,  without  asking  leave  or  telling;  but  if  I  ever  find 
thee  spying  into  my  affairs,  all  the  King's  life-guards  in 
London  and  the  dragoons  thou  bringest  hither,  shall  not 
save  thee  from  my  hand — or  one  finger  is  enough  for 
thee." 

Being  carried  beyond  myself  by  his  insolence  about 
Lorna,  I  looked  at  Master  Stickles  so,  and  spake  in  such  a 
voice,  that  all  his  daring  courage  and  his  spotless  honor 
quailed  within  him,  and  he  shrunk — as  if  I  would  strike  so 
small  a  man! 

Then  I  left  him,  and  went  to  work  at  the  sacks  upon 
the  corn-floor,  to  take  my  evil  spirit  from  me  before  I 
should  see  mother.  For  (to  tell  the  trntli)  now  my  strength 
was  full,  and  troubles  were  gathering  round  me;  and 
people  took  advantage  so  much  of  my  easy  temper  some- 
times, when  I  was  over-tried,  a  sudden  heat  ran  over  me, 
and  a  glowing  of  all  my  muscles,  and  a  tingling  for  a 
mighty  throw,  such  as  my  utmost  self-command,  and  fear 
of  hurting  any  one,  could  but  ill  refrain.     Afterward  I  was 


JOHN  RETURNS  TO  BUSINESS.  287 

always  very  sadly  ashamed  of  myself,  knowing  how  poor  a 
thing  bodily  strength  is,  as  compared  with  power  of  mind, 
and  that  it  is  a  coward's  part  to  misuse  it  upon  weaker 
Jolk.  For  the  present,  there  was  a  little  breach  between 
Master  Stickles  and  me,  for  which  I  blamed  myself  very 
sorely.  But  though,  in  full  memory  of  his  kindness  and 
faithfulness  in  London,  I  asked  his  jpardon  many  times  for 
my  foolish  anger  with  him,  and  offered  to  undergo  any 
penalty  he  would  lay  upon  me,  he  only  said  it  was  no 
matter,  there  was  nothing  to  forgive.  When  people  say 
that,  the  truth  often  is  that  they  can  forgive  nothing. 

So,  for  the  present,  a  breach  was  made  between  Master 
Jeremy  and  myself,  which  to  me  seemed  no  great  loss,  in- 
asmuch as  it  relieved  me  from  any  privity  to  his  dealings, 
for  which  I  had  small  liking.  All  I  feared  was  lest  I  might 
in  any  way  be  ungrateful  to  him;  but  when  he  would  have 
no  more  of  me,  what  could  I  do  to  help  it?  However,  in 
a  few  days'  time  I  was  of  good  service  to  him,  as  you 
shall  see  in  its  proper  place. 

But  now  my  own  affairs  were  thrown  into  such  disorder 
that  I  could  think  of  nothing  else,  and  had  the  greatest 
difficulty  in  hiding  my  uneasiness.  For  suddenly,  without 
any  warning,  or  a  word  of  message,  all  my  Lorna's  signals 
ceased,  which  I  had  been  accustomed  to  watch  for  daily, 
and  as  it  were,  to  feed  upon  them  with  a  glowing  heart. 
The  first  time  I  stood  on  the  wooded  crest,  and  found  no 
change  from  yesterday,  I  could  hardly  believe  my  eyes,  or 
thought  at  least  that  it  must  be  some  great  mistake  on  the 
part  of  my  love.  However,  even  that  oppressed  me  with  a 
heavy  heart,  which  grew  heavier,  as  I  found  from  day  to 
day  no  token. 

Three  times  I  went  and  waited  long  at  the  bottom  of  the 
valley,  where  now  the  stream  was  brown  and  angry  with 
the  rains  of  autumn,  and  the  weeping  trees  hung  leafless. 
But  though  I  waited  at  every  hour  of  day,  and  far  into 
the  night,  no  light  footstep  came  to  meet  me,  no  sweet 
voice  was  in  the  air;  all  was  lonely,  drear,  and  drenched 
with  sodden  desolation.  It  seemed  as  if  my  love  was  dead, 
and  the  winds  were  at  her  funeral. 

Once  I  sought  far  up  the  valley,  where  I  had  never  been 
before,  even  beyond  the  copse  where  Lorna  had  found  and 
lost  her  brave  young  cousin.    Following  up  the  river  chan- 


288  LORNA  BOONE. 

nel,  in  shelter  of  the  evening  fog,  I  gained  a  corner  within 
stone's  throw  of  the  last  outlying  cot.  This  was  a  gloomy, 
low,  square  house,  without  any  light  in  the  windows, 
roughly  built  of  wood  and  stone,  as  I  saw  when  I  drew 
^nearer.  For  knowing  it  to  be  Carver's  dwelling  (or  at  least 
suspecting  so,  from  some  words  of  Lorna's),  I  was  led  by 
curiosity,  and  perhaps  by  jealousy,  to  have  a  closer  look  at 
it.  Therefore,  I  crept  up  the  stream,  losing  half  my  sense 
of  fear  by  reason  of  anxiety.  And  in  truth  there  was  not 
much  to  fear,  the  sky  being  now  too  dark  for  even  a  shooter 
of  wild  fowl  to  make  good  aim.  And  nothing  else  but 
guns  could  hurt  me,  as  in  the  pride  of  my  strength  I 
thought,  and  in  my  skill  of  single-stick. 

Nevertheless,  I  went  warily,  being  now  almost  among  the 
nest  of  cockatrices.  The  back  of  Carver's  house  abutted 
on  the  waves  of  the  rushing  stream;  and  seeing  a  loophole, 
vacant  for  muskets,  I  looked  in,  but  all  was  quiet.  So  far 
as  I  could  judge  by  listening,  there  was  no  one  now  inside, 
and  my  heart  for  a  moment  leaped  with  joy,  for  I  had 
feared  to  find  Lorna  there.  Then  I  took  a  careful  survey 
of  the  dwelling,  and  its  windows,  and  its  door,  and  aspect, 
as  if  I  had  been  a  robber  meaning  to  make  privy  entrance. 
It  was  well  for  me  that  I  did  this,  as  you  will  find  here- 
after. 

Having  impressed  upon  my  mind  (a  slow  but,  perhaps, 
retentive  mind)  all  the  bearings  of  the  place,  and  all  its 
opportunities,  and  even  the  curve  of  the  stream  along  it, 
and  the  bushes  near  the  door,  I  was  much  inclined  to  go 
farther  up,  and  understand  all  the  village.  But  a  bar  of 
red  light  across  the  river,  some  forty  yards  on  above  me, 
and  crossing  from  the  opposite  side  like  a  chain,  prevented 
me.  In  that  second  house  there  was  a  gathering  of  loud 
and  merry  outlaws,  making  as  much  noise  as  if  they  had 
the  law  upon  their  side.  Some,  indeed,  as  I  approached, 
were  laying  down  both  right  and  wrong  as  purely,  and  with 
as  high  a  sense,  as  if  they  knew  the  difference.  Cold  and 
troubled  as  I  was,  I  could  hardly  keep  from  laughing. 

Before  I  betook  myself  home  that  night,  and  eased  dear 
mother's  heart  so  much,  and  made  her  pale  face  spread 
with  smiles,  I  had  resolved  to  penetrate  Glen  Doone  from 
the  upper  end,  and  learn  all  about  my  Lorna.  Not  but 
what  I  might  have  entered  from  my  unsuspected  channel, 


JOHN  RETURNS  TO  BUSINESS.  289 

as  so  often  I  had  done;  but  that  I  saw  fearful  need  for 
knowing  something  more  than  that.  Here  was  every  sort 
of  trouble  gathering  upon  me;  here  was  Jeremy  Stickles 
stealing  upon  every  one  in  the  dark;  here  was  Uncle 
Reuben  plotting,  Satan  only  could  tell  what;  here  was  a  white 
night-capped  man  coming  bodily  from  the  grave;  here  was 
my  own  sister  Annie  committed  to  a  highwayman,  and 
mother  in  distraction;  most  of  all — here,  there,  and  where 
— was  my  Lorna  stolen,  dungeoned,  perhaps  outraged.  It 
was  no  time  for  shilly-shally,  for  the  balance  of  this  and 
that,  or  for  a  man  with  blood  and  muscle  to  pat  his  nose 
and  ponder.  If  I  left  my  Lorna  so;  if  I  let  those  black- 
souled  villains  work  their  pleasure  on  my  love;  if  the  heart 
that  clave  to  mine  could  find  no  vigor  in  it,  then  let  maid- 
ens cease  from  men,  and  rest  their  faith  in  tabby- cats. 

Rudely  rolling  these  ideas  in  my  heavy  head  and  brain, 
I  resolved  to  let  the  morrow  put  them  into  form  and  order, 
but  not  contradict  them.  And  then,  as  my  constitution 
willed  (being  like  that  of  England),  I  slept,  and  there  was 
no  stopping  me. 


290  LOEI^A  DOONB. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

A  VERY  DESPERATE  VENTURE. 

That  the  enterprise  now  resolved  upon  was  far  more 
dangerous  than  any  hitherto  attempted  by  me,  needs  no 
further  proof  than  this:  I  went  and  made  my  will  at  Por- 
lock,  with  a  middling  honest  lawyer  there;  not  that  I  had 
much  to  leave,  but  that  none  could  say  how  far  the  farm, 
and  all  the  farming  stock,  might  depend  on  my  disposition. 
It  makes  me  smile  when  I  remember  how  particular  I  was, 
and  how  for  the  life  of  me  I  was  puzzled  to  bequeath  most 
part  of  my  clothes,  and  hats,  and  things  altogether  my 
own,  to  Lorna,  without  the  shrewd  old  lawyer  knowing 
who  she  was  and  where  she  lived.  At  that,  indeed,  I 
flattered  myself  that  I  had  baffled  old  Tape's  curiosity;  but 
his  wrinkled  smile,  and  his  speech  at  parting,  made  me 
again  uneasy. 

"A  very  excellent  will,  young  sir.  An  admirably  just 
and  virtuous  will;  all  your  effects  to  your  nearest  of  kin; 
filial  and  fraternal  duty  thoroughly  exemplified;  nothing 
diverted  to  alien  channels,  jxcept  a  small  token  of  esteem 
and  reverence  to  an  elderly  lady,  I  presume;  and  which 
may  or  may  not  be  valid,  or  invalid,  on  the  ground  of  un- 
certainty, or  the  absence  of  any  legal  status  on  the  part  of 
the  legatee.  Ha,  ha  I  Yes,  yes!  Few  young  men  are  so 
free  from  exceptionable  entanglements.  Two  guineas  is 
my  charge,  sir;  and  a  rare  good-will  for  the  money.  Very 
prudent  of  you,  ^iv.  Does  you  credit  in  every  way.  Well, 
well,  we  all  must  die;  and  often  the  young  before  the  old." 

Not  only  did  I  think  two  guineas  a  great  deal  too  much 
money  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  enployment,  but  also  I 
disliked  particularly  the  words  with  which  he  concluded; 
they  sounded,  from  his  grating  voice,  like  the  evil  omen  of 
a  croaking  raven.  Nevertheless,  I  still  abode  in  my  fixed 
resolve  to  go,  and  find  out,  if  I  died  for  it,  what  was  be- 


A  VERY  DESPERATE  VENTURE.  291 

come  of  Lorna.  And  herein  I  lay  no  claim  to  courage:  the 
matter  being  simply  a  choice  between  two  evils,  of  which 
by  far  the  greater  one  was,  of  course,  to  lose  my  darling. 

The  Journey  was  a  great  deal  longer  to  fetch  around  the 
southern  hills,  and  enter  by  the  Doone-gate,  than  to  cross 
the  lower  land  and  steal  in  by  the  water-slide.  However,  I 
durst  not  take  a  horse  (for  fear  of  the  Doones,  who  might 
be  abroad  upon  their  usual  business),  but  started  betimes 
in  the  evening,  so  as  not  to  hurry,  or  waste  any  strength 
upon  the  way.  And  thus  I  came  to  the  robbers'  highway, 
walking  circumspectly,  scanning  the  sky-line  of  every  hill, 
and  searching  the  folds  of  every  valley,  for  any  moving 
figure. 

Although  it  was  now  well  on  toward  dark,  and  the  sun 
was  down  an  hour  or  so,  I  could  see  the  robbers'  road  be- 
fore me,  in  a  trough  of  the  winding  hills,  where  the  brook 
plowed  down  from  the  higher  barrows,  and  the  coving 
banks  were  roofed  with  furze.  At  present  there  was  no  one 
passing,  neither  post  nor  sentinel,  so  far  as  I  could  descry; 
but  I  thought  it  safer  to  wait  a  little,  as  twilight  melted 
into  night;  and  then  I  crept  down  a  seam  of  the  highland, 
and  stood  upon  the  Doone-track. 

As  the  road  approached  the  entrance,  it  became  more 
straight  and  strong,  like  a  channel  cut  from  rock,  with 
the  water  brawling  darkly  along  the  naked  side  of  it. 
Not  a  tree  or  bush  was  left,  to  shelter  a  man  from  bullets: 
all  was  stern,  and  stiff,  and  rugged,  as  I  could  not  help 
perceiving,  even  through  the  darkness;  and  a  smell  as  of 
church-yard  mold,  a  sense  of  being  boxed  in  and  cooped, 
made  me  long  to  be  out  again. 

And  here  I  was,  or  seemed  to  be,  particularly  unlucky; 
for  as  I  drew  near  the  very  entrance,  lightly  of  foot,  and 
-warily,  the  moon  (which  had  often  been  my  friend)  like  an 
enemy,  broke  upon  me,  topping  the  eastward  ridge  of  rock, 
and  filling  all  the  open  spaces  with  the  play  of  wavering 
light.  I  shrunk  back  into  the  shadowy  quarter  on  the 
right  side  of  the  road,  and  gloomily  employed  myself  to 
watch  the  triple  entrance,  on  which  the  moonlight  fell 
askew. 

All  across  and  before  the  three  rude  and  beetling  arch- 
ways hung  a  felled  oak,  overhead,  black  and  thick,  and 
threatening.    This,  as  I  heard  before,  could  be  let  fall  in  a 


292  LORNA  BOONE. 

moment,  so  as  to  crush  a  score  of  men,  and  bar  the  ap- 
proach of  horses.  Behind  this  tree,  the  rocky  mouth  was 
spanned,  as  by  a  gallery,  with  brush-wood  and  piled 
timber,  all  upon  a  ledge  of  stone,  where  thirty  men  might 
lurk  unseen,  and  fire  at  any  invader.  From  that  rampart 
it  would  be  impossible  to  dislodge  them,  because  the  rock 
fell  sheer  below  them  twenty  feet,  or  it  may  be  more;  while 
overhead  it  towered  three  hundred,  and  so  jutted  over  that 
nothing  could  be  cast  upon  them,  even  if  a  man  could 
climb  the  height.  And  the  access  to  this  portcullis  place — 
if  I  may  so  call  it,  being  no  portcullis  there — was  through 
certain  rocky  chambers  known  to  the  tenants  only. 

But  the  cleverest  of  their  devices,  and  the  most  puzzling 
to  an  enemy,  was  that,  instead  of  one  mouth  only,  there 
were  three  to  choose  from,  with  nothing  to  betoken  which 
was  the  proper  acess;  all  being  pretty  much  alike,  and  all  un- 
fenced  and  yawning.  And  the  common  rumor  was  that  in 
times  of  any  danger,  when  any  force  was  known  to  be  on 
muster  in  their  neighborhood,  they  changed  their  entrance 
every  day,  and  diverted  the  other  two,  by  means  of  sliding- 
doors,  to  tlie  chasms  and  dark  abysses. 

Now  I  could  see  those  three  rough  arches,  jagged,  black 
and  terrible,  and  I  knew  that  only  one  of  them  could  lead 
me  to  the  valley;  neither  gave  the  river  now  any  further 
guidance,  but  dived  under-ground  with  a  sullen  roar, 
where  it  met  the  cross-bar  of  the  mountain.  Having  no 
means  at  all  of  judging  which  was  the  right  way  of  the 
three,  and  knowing  that  the  other  two  would  lead  to  almost 
certain  death,  in  the  ruggedness  and  darkness — for  liow 
could  a  man,  among  precipices  and  bottomless  depths  of 
water,  without  a  ray  of  light,  have  any  chance  to  save  his 
life?  I  do  declare  that  I  was  half  inclined  to  go  away,  and 
have  done  with  it. 

However,  I  knew  one  thing  for  certain,  to-wit,  that  the» 
longer  I  stayed  debating,  the  more  would  the  enter- 
prise pall  upon  me,  and  the  less  my  relish  be.  And  it 
struck  me,  that,  in  times  of  peace,  the  middle  way  was  the 
likeliest;  and  the  others  diverging  right  and  left  in  their 
further  parts  might  be  to  slide  into  it  (not  far  from  the 
entrance)  at  the  pleasure  of  the  warders.  Also  I  took  it 
for  good  omen  that  I  remembered  (as  rarely  happened)  a 
very  fine  line  in  the  Latin  grammar,  whose  emphasis  and 
meaning  is,  '^  middle  road  is  safest." 


A  VERY  DESPERATE  VENTURE.  293 

Therefore,  without  more  hesitation,  I  punged  into  the 
middle  way,  holding  a  long  ash  staff  before  me,  shod- 
den  at  the  end  with  iron.  Presently  I  was  in  the  black 
darkness,  groping  along  the  wall,  and  feeling  a  deal  more 
fear  than  I  wished  to  feel:  especially  when,  upon  looking 
back,  I  could  no  longer  see  the  light,  which  I  had  for- 
saken. Then  I  stumbled  over  something  hard,  and  sharp, 
and  very  cold;  moreover,  so  grievous  to  my  legs  that  it 
needed  my  very  best  doctrine  and  humor  to  forbear  from 
swearing  in  the  manner  they  use  in  London.  But  when  I 
arose,  and  felt  it,  and  knew  it  to  be  a  culverine,  I  was 
somewhat  reassured  thereby,  inasmuch  as  it  was  not  likely 
that  they  would  plant  this  engine  except  in  the  real  and 
true  entrance. 

Therefore,  I  went  on  again,  more  painfully  and  wearily, 
and  presently  found  it  to  be  good  that  I  had  received  that 
knock,  and  born  it  with  such  patience;  for  otherwise  I 
might  have  blundered  full  upon  the  sentries,  and  been 
shot  without  more  ado.  As  it  was,  I  had  barely  time  to 
draw  back,  as  I  turned  a  corner  upon  them;  and  if  their 
lantern  had  been  in  its  place,  they  could  scarce  have  failed 
to  descry  me,  unless,  indeed,  I  had  seen  the  gleam  before 
I  turned  the  corner. 

There  seemed  to  be  only  two  of  them,  of  size  indeed  and 
stature  as  all  the  Doones  must  be;  but  I  need  not  have 
feared  to  encounter  them  both,  had  they  been  unarmed,  as 
I  was.  It  was  plain,  however,  that  each  had  a  long  and 
heavy  carbine,  not  in  his  hands  (as  it  should  have  been), 
but  standing  close  beside  him.  Therefore  it  behooved  me 
now  to  be  exceeding  careful;  and  even  that  might  scarce 
avail,  without  luck  in  proportion.  So  I  kept  well  back  at 
the  corner,  and  laid  one  cheek  to  the  rock  face,  and  kept 
my  outer  eye  round  the  jut  in  the  wariest  mode  I  could 
compass,  watching  my  opportunity,  and  this  is  what  I  saw. 

The  two  villains  looked  very  happy — which  villains  have 
no  right  to  be,  but  often  are,  meseemeth — they  were  sitting 
in  a  niche  of  rock,  with  the  lantern  in  the  corner,  quaffing 
something  from  glass  measures,  and  playing  at  push-pin, 
or  shepherd^s  chess,  or  basset,  or  some  trivial  game  of  that 
sort.  Each  was  smoking  a  long  clay  pipe,  quite  of  new 
London  shape,  I  could  see,  for  the  shadow  was  thrown  out 
clearly;  and  each  would  laugh  from  time  to  time,  as  he 


294  LORNA  BOONE. 

fancied  he  got  the  better  of  it.  One  was  sitting  with  his 
knees  up,  and  left  hand  on  his  thigh;  and  this  one  had  his 
back  to  me,  and  seemed  to  be  the  stouter.  The  other 
leaned  more  against  the  rock,  half  sitting  and  half  astrad- 
dle, and  wearing  leathern  overalls,  as  if  newly  come  from 
riding.  I  could  see  his  face  quite  clearly  by  the  light  of 
the  open  lantern,  and  a  handsomer  or  a  bolder  face  I  had 
seldom,  if  ever,  set  eyes  upon;  insomuch  that  it  made  me 
very  unhappy  to  think  of  his  being  so  near  my  Lorna. 

"How  long  ami  to  stay  crouching  here?"  I  asked  of 
myself  at  last,  being  tired  of  hearing  them  cry,  ''score 

one,"  ''score  two,"  "No,  by ,  Charlie;"  "By ,  I 

say  it  is,  Phelps."  And  yet  my  only  chance  of  slipping  by 
them  unperceived  was  to  wait  till  they  quarreled  more,  and 
came  to  blows  about  it.  Presently,  as  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  steal  along  toward  them  (for  the  cavern  was  pretty  wide 
just  there),  Charlie,  or  Charleworth  Doone,  the  younger 
and  taller  man,  reached  forth  his  hand  to  seize  the  money, 
which  he  swore  he  had  won  that  time.  Upon  this,  the 
other  jerked  his  arm,  vowing  that  he  had  no  right  to  it; 
whereupon  Charlie  flung  at  his  face  the  contents  of  the 
glass  he  was  sipping,  but  missed  him  and  hit  the  candle, 
which  sputtered  with  a  flare  of  blue  flame  (from  the 
strength,  perhaps,  of  the  spirit),  and  then  went  out  com> 
pletely.  At  this,  one  swore  and  the  other  laughed;  and 
before  they  had  settled  what  to  do,  I  was  past  them  and 
round  the  corner. 

And  then,  like  a  giddy  fool  as  I  was,  I  needs  must  give 
them  a  startler — the  whoop  of  an  owl,  done  so  exactly,  as 
John  Fry  had  taught  me,  and  echoed  by  the  roof  so  fear- 
fully, that  one  of  them  dropped  the  tinder-box,  and  the 
other  caught  up  his  gun  and  cocked  it — at  least  as  I  judged 
by  the  sounds  they  made.  And  then,  too  late,  I  knew  my 
madness;  for  if  either  of  them  had  fired,  no  doubt  but 
what  all  the  village  would  have  risen  and  rushed  upon  me. 
However,  as  the  luck  of  the  matter  went,  it  proved  for  my 
advantage;  for  I  heard  one  say  to  the  other: 

"Curse  it,  Charlie,  what  was  that?  It  scared  me  so,  I 
have  dropped  my  box;  my  flint  is  gone,  and  everything. 
Will  the  brimstone  catch  from  your  pipe,  my  lad?" 

"  My  pipe  is  out,  Phelps,  ever  so  long.     D n  it,  I  am 

not  afraid  of  an  owl,  man.     Give  me  the  lantern,  and  stay 
here.     I'm  not  half  done  with  you  yet,  my  friend." 


A  VERY  DESPERATE  VENTURE.  295 

'*  Well  said,  my  boy,  well  sakl !  Go  straight  to  Carver's, 
mind  you.  The  other  sleepy-heads  be  snoring,  as  there  is 
nothing  up  to-night.  No  dallying  now  under  Captain's 
window.  Queen  will  have  naught  to  say  to  you,  and  Car- 
ver will  punch  your  head  into  a  new  wick  for  your  lantern." 

'MVill  he,  though?  Two  can  play  at  that."  And  so, 
after  some  rude  jests  and  laughter,  and  a  few  more  oaths, 
I  heard  Charlie  (or  at  any  rate  somebody)  coming  toward 
me,  with  a  loose  and  not  too  sober  footfall.  As  he  reeled  a 
little  in  his  gait,  and  I  would  not  move  from  his  way  one 
inch,  after  his  talk  of  Lorna,  but  only  longed  to  grasp 
him  (if  common  sense  permitted  it),  his  braided  coat  came 
against  my  thumb,  and  his  leathern  gaiters  brushed  my 
knee.  If  he  had  turned  or  noticed  it,  he  would  have  been 
a  dead  man  in  a  moment;  but  his  drunkenness  saved  him. 

So  I  let  him  reel  on  unharmed ;  and  thereupon  it  occurred 
to  me  that  I  could  have  no  better  guide,  passing  as  he 
would  exactly  where  I  wished  to  be — that  is  to  say,  under 
Lorna's  window.  Therefore  I  followed  him,  without  any 
especial  caution;  and  soon  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  his 
form  against  the  moonlit  sky.  Down  a  steep  and  winding 
path,  with  a  hand-rail  at  the  corners  (such  as  they  have  at 
Ilfracombe),  Master  Charlie  tripped  along — and  indeed 
there  was  much  tripping,  and  he  must  have  been  an  active 
fellow  to  recover  as  he  did — and  after  him  walked  I,  much 
hoping  (for  his  own  poor  sake)  that  he  might  not  turn  and 
espy  me. 

But  Bacchus  (of  whom  I  read  at  school,  with  great  won- 
der about  his  meaning — and  the  same  I  may  say  of  Venus) 
that  great  deity  preserved  Charlie,  his  pious  worshiper, 
from  regarding  consequences.  So  he  led  me  very  kindly 
to  the  top  of  the  meadow-land,  where  the  stream  from 
underground  broke  forth,  seething  quietly  with  a  little  hiss 
of  bubbles.  Hence  I  had  fair  view  and  outline  of  the  rob- 
bers' township,  spread  with  bushes  here  and  there,  but  not 
heavily  overshadowed.  The  moon,  approaching  now  the 
full,  brought  the  forms  in  manner  forth,  clothing  each  with 
character,  as  the  moon  (more  than  the  sun)  does  to  an  eye 
accustomed. 

I  knew  that  the  Captain's  house  was  first,  both  from  what 
Lorna  had  said  of  it,  and  from  my  mother's  description, 
and  now  again  from  seeing  Charlie  halt  there  for  a  certain 


296  LORNA  BOONE. 

time,  and  whistle  on  his  fingers,  and  hurry  on,  fearing 
consequence.  The  tune  that  he  whistled  was  strange  to 
me,  and  lingered  in  my  ears,  as  having  something  very  new, 
and  striking,  and  fantastic  in  it.  And  I  repeated  it  softly 
to  myself,  while  I  marked  the  position  of  the  houses  and 
the  beauty  of  the  village.  For  the  stream,  in  lieu  of  any 
street,  passing  between  the  houses,  and  affording  perpetual 
change,  and  twinkling,  and  reflections — moreover,  by  its 
sleepy  murmur,  soothing  all  the  dwellers  there — this,  and 
the  snugness  of  the  position,  walled  with  rock  and  spread 
with  herbage,  made  it  look,  in  the  quiet  moonlight,  like  a 
little  paradise.  And  to  think  of  all  the  inmates  there 
sleeping  with  good  consciences,  having  plied  their  useful 
trade  of  making  other's  work  for  them,  enjoying  life  with- 
out much  labor,  yet  with  great  renown! 

Master  Charlie  went  down  the  village,  and  I  followed 
him  carefully,  keeping  as  much  as  possible  in  the  shadowy 
places,  and  watching  the  windows  of  every  house,  lest  any 
light  should  be  burning.  As  I  passed  Sir  Ensor's  house, 
my  heart  leaped  up,  for  I  spied  a  window,  higher  than  the 
rest  above  the  ground,  and  with  a  faint  light  moving. 
This  could  hardly  fail  to  be  the  room  wherein  my  darling 
lay;  for  here  that  impudent  young  fellow  had  gazed  while 
he  was  whistling.  And  here  my  courage  grew  tenfold,  and 
my  spirit  feared  no  evil;  for  lo,  if  Lorna  had  been  surren- 
dered to  that  scoundrel.  Carver,  she  would  not  have  been 
at  her  grandfather's  house,  but  in  Carver's  accursed 
dwelling. 

Warm  with  this  idea,  I  hurried  after  Charle worth  Doone, 
being  resolved  not  to  harm  him  now,  unless  my  own  life 
required  it.  And  while  I  watched  from  behind  a  tree,  the 
door  of  the  furthest  house  was  opened;  and,  sure  enough, 
it  was  Carver's  self,  who  stood  bareheaded,  and  half  un- 
dressed, in  the  door-way.  I  could  see  his  great  black  chest 
and  arms,  by  the  light  of  the  lamp  he  bore. 

"  Who  wants  me  this  time  of  night?"  he  grumbled,  in  a 
deep  gruff  voice;  ^^  any  3^oung  scamp  prowling  after  the 
maids  shall  have  sore  bones  for  his  trouble." 

*'  All  the  fair  maids  are  for  thee,  are  they.  Master 
Carver?"  Charlie  answered,  laughing;  '^  we  young  scamps 
must  be  well  content  with  coarser  stuff  than  thou  wouldst 
have," 


A  VERY  DESPERATE  VENTURE.  297 

"Would  have?  Ay,  and  will  have,"  the  great  beast 
muttered  angrily.  "  I  bide  my  time;  but  not  very  long. 
Only  one  word  for  thy  good,  Charlie.  I  will  fling  thee 
senseless  into  the  river,  if  ever  I  catch  thy  girl-face  there 
again." 

**  Mayhap,  Master  Carver,  it  is  more  than  thou  couldst 
do.  But  I  will  not  keep  thee;  thou  art  not  pleasant  com- 
pany to-night.  All  I  want  is  a  light  for  my  lantern,  and  a 
glass  of  schnapps,  if  thou  hast  it." 

"What  is  become  of  thy  light,  then?  Good  for  thee 
I  am  not  on  duty." 

**  A  great  owl  flew  between  me  and  Phelps  as  we 
watched  beside  the  culverin,  and  so  scared  was  he  at  our 
fierce  bright  eyes  that  he  fell  and  knocked  the  light  out." 

"Likely  tale,  or  likely  lie,  Charles!  We  will  have  the 
truth  to-morrow.  Here,  take  thy  light,  and  be  gone  with 
thee.     All  virtuous  men  are  in  bed  now." 

"Then  so  will  I  be;  and  why  art  thou  not?  Ha!  have 
I  earned  my  schnapps  now?" 

"If  thou  hast,  thou  hast  paid  a  bad  debt:  there  is  too 
much  in  thee  already.     Be  off!  my  patience  is  done  with." 

Then  he  slammed  the  door  in  the  young  man's  face, 
having  kindled  his  lantern  by  this  time;  and  Charlie  went 
up  to  the  watch-place  again,  muttering  as  he  passed  me: 
"  Bad  lookout  for  all  of  us  when  that  surly  old  beast  is 
captain.  No  gentle  blood  in  him,  no  hospitality,  not  even 
pleasant  language,  nor  a  good  new  oath  in  his  frowzy  pate! 
I've  a  mind  to  cut  the  whole  of  it;  and  but  for  the  girls  I 
would  so." 

My  heart  was  in  my  mouth,  as  they  say,  when  I  stood  in 
the  shade  of  Lorna's  window,  and  whispered  her  name 
gently.  The  house  was  a  one  story  only,  as  the  others 
were,  with  pine-ends  standing  forth  the  stone,  and  only 
two  rough  windows  upon  that  western  side  of  it,  and  per- 
haps both  of  them  were  Lorna's.  The  Doones  had  been 
their  own  builders,  for  no  one  should  know  their  ins  and 
outs;  and  of  course  their  work  was  clumsy.  As  for  their 
windows,  they  stole  them  mostly  from  the  houses  round 
about.  But  though  the  window  was  not  very  close,  I 
might  have  whispered  long  enough  before  she  would  have 
answered  me,  frightened  as  she  was,  no  doubt,  by  many  a 
rude  overture.     And  I  durst  not  speak  aloud,  because  I 


298  LORNA  DOONE, 

saw  another  watchman  posted  on  the  western  cliff,  and 
commanding  all  the  valley.  And  now  this  man  (having 
no  companion  for  drinking  or  for  gambling)  espied  me 
against  the  wall  of  the  house,  and  advanced  to  the  brink, 
and  challenged  me. 

**Who  are  you,  there?  Answer!  One,  two,  three;  and 
I  fire  at  thee.'* 

The  nozzle  of  his  gun  was  pointed  full  upon  me,  as  I 
could  see,  with  the  moonlight  striking  on  the  barrel;  he  was 
not  more  than  fifty  yards  off,  and  now  he  began  to  reckon. 
Being  almost  desperate  about  it,  I  began  to  whistle,  won- 
dering how  far  I  should  get  before  I  lost  my  windpipe;  and 
as  luck  would  have  it,  my  lips  fell  into  that  strange  tune  I 
had  practiced  last;  the  one  I  heard  from  Charlie.  My 
mouth  would  scarcely  frame  the  notes,  being  parched  with 
terror;  but  to  my  surprise  the  man  fell  back,  dropped  his 
gun  and  saluted.     Oh,  sweetest  of  all  sweet  melodies! 

That  tune  was  Carver  Doone's  passport  (as  I  heard  long 
afterward),  which  Charle worth  Doone  had  imitated,  for 
decoy  of  Lorna.  The  sentinal  took  me  for  that  vile 
Carver,  who  was  like  enough  to  be  prowling  there,  for  pri- 
vate talk  with  Lorna,  but  not  very  likely  to  shout  forth 
his  name,  if  it  might  be  avoided.  The  watchman,  perceiv- 
ing the  danger,  perhaps,  of  intruding  on  Carver's  privacy, 
not  only  retired  along  the  cliff,  but  withdrew  himself  to 
good  distance. 

Meanwhile  he  had  done  me  the  kindest  service;  for 
Lorna  came  to  the  window  at  once  to  see  what  the  cause  of 
the  shout  was,  and  drew  back  the  curtain  timidly.  Tlien 
she  opened  the  rough  lattice;  and  then  she  watched 
the  cliff  and  trees;  and  then  she  sighed  very  sadly. 

''Oh,  Lorna,  don't  you  know  me?"  I  whispered  from 
the  side,  being  afraid  of  startling  her  by  appearing  over 
suddenly. 

Quick  though  she  always  was  of  thought,  she  knew  me 
not  from  my  whisper,  and  was  shutting  the  window  hastily, 
when  I  caught  it  back,  and  showed  myself. 

"John!"  she  cried,  yet  with  sense  enough  not  to  speak 
aloud;  ''oh,  you  must  be  mad,  John!" 

"  As  mad  as  a  March  hare,"  said  I,  "  without  any  news  of 
my  darling.     You  knew  I  would  come — of  course  you  did." 

"Well,  I  thought,  perhaps — you  know:  now,  John,  you 


A  VEnr  DESPERATE  VENTURE.  299 

need  not  eat  my  hand.  Do  you  see  they  have  put  iron 
bars  across?" 

'*To  be  sure.  Do  you  thmk  I  should  be  contented, 
even  with  this  lovely  hand,  but  for  these  vile  iron  bars.  I 
will  have  them  out  before  I  go.  Now,  darling,  for  one 
moment — just  the  other  hand,  for  a  change,  you  know.*' 

So  I  got  the  other,  but  was  not  honest;  for  I  kept  them 
both,  and  felt  their  delicate  beauty  trembling,  as  I  laid 
them  to  my  heart. 

"  Oh,  John,  you  will  make  me  cry  directly  " — she  had 
been  crying  long  ago — "  if  you  go  on  in  that  way.  You 
know  we  can  never  have  one  another;  every  one  is  against 
it.  Why  should  I  make  you  miserable?  Try  not  to  think 
of  me  any  more." 

"And  will  you  try  the  same  of  me,  Lorna?" 

''Oh  yes,  John;  if  you  agree  to  it.  At  least  I  will  try 
to  try  it." 

"Then  you  won't  try  anything  of  the  sort,"  I  cried, 
with  great  enthusiasm,  for  her  tone  was  so  nice  and  melan- 
choly: "the  only  thing  we  will  try  to  try,  is  to  belong  to 
one  another.  And  if  we  do  our  best,  Lorna,  God  alone  can 
prevent  us." 

She  crossed  herself,  with  one  hand  drawn  free,  as  I 
spoke  so  boldly;  ajid  something  swelled  in  her  little  throat, 
and  prevented  her  from  answering. 

"  Now  tell  me,"  I  said;  "  what  means  all  this?  Why 
are  you  so  pent  up  here?  Why  have  you  given  me  no 
token?  Has  your  grandfather  turned  against  you?  Are 
you  in  any  danger?" 

"  My  poor  grandfather  is  very  ill:  I  fear  that  he  will  not 
live  long.  The  Counselor  and  his  son  are  now  the  masters 
of  the  valley;  and  I  dare  not  venture  forth,  for  fear  of  any 
thing  they  might  do  to  me.  When  I  went  forth  to  signal 
for  you.  Carver  tried  to  seize  me;  but  I  was  too  quick  for 
him.  Little  Gwenny  is  not  allowed  to  leave  the  valley 
now,  so  that  I  could  send  no  message.  I  have  been  so 
wretched,  dear,  lest  you  should  think  me  false  to  you.  The 
tyrants  now  make  sure  of  me.  You  must  watch  this  house 
both  night  and  day,  if  you  wish  to  save  me.  There  is 
nothing  they  would  shrink  from,  if  my  poor  grandfather — 
oh,  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  myself,  when  I  ought  to  think 
of  him  only;  dying  without  a  *oa  to  tend  him,  or  a 
daughter  to  shed  a  teav  " 


aoo  loma  woirs, 

*'Bufc  surely  Ke  has  sons  enough;  and  a  deal  too  many/^ 
I  was  gomg  to  say,  but  stopped  myself  in  time:  *'why  do 
none  of  them  come  to  him? 

"  I  know  not.  I  cannot  tell.  He  is  a  very  strange  old 
man;  and  few  have  ever  loved  him.  He  was  black  with 
wrath  at  the  Counselor  this  very  afternoon — but  I  must 
not  keep  you  here — you  are  much  too  brave,  John;  and  I 
am  much  too  selfish:  there,  what  was  that  shadow?'' 

*^  Nothing  more  than  a  bat,  darling,  come  to  look  for 
his  sweetheart.  I  will  not  stay  long;  you  tremble  so:  and 
yet  for  that  very  reason,  how  can  I  leave  you,  Lorna?'* 

"You  must — you  must,"  she  answered;  '^I  shall  die  if 
they  hurt  you.  I  hear  the  old  nurse  moving.  Grandfather 
is  sure  to  send  for  me.     Keep  back  from  the  window." 

However,  it  was  only  Gwenny  Carfax,  Lorna's  little 
handmaid:  my  darling  brought  her  to  the  window  and 
presented  her  to  me,  almost  laughing  through  her  grief. 

'^  Oh,  I  am  so  glad,  John;  Gwenny,  I  am  so  glad  you 
came.  I  have  wanted  long  to  introduce  you  to  my  'young 
man,'  as  you  call  him.  It  is  rather  dark,  but  you  can  see 
him.     I  wish  you  to  know  him  again,  Gwenny." 

*'Whoy!"  cried  Gwenny,  with  great  amazement,  stand- 
ing on  tiptoe  to  look  out,  and  staring  as  if  she  were  weigh- 
ing me;  "her  be  bigger  nor  any  Doone!  Heared  as  her 
have  bate  our  Garnish  champion  a-wrastling.  'Twadn't 
fair  play  nohow:  no,  no;  don't  tell  me,  'twadn't  fair  play 
nohow." 

"True  enough,  Gwenny,"  I  answered  her;  for  the  play 
had  been  very  unfair  indeed  on  the  side  of  the  Bodmin 
champion;  "it  was  not  a  fair  bout,  little  maid;  I  am  free 
to  acknowledge  that."  By  that  answer,  or  rather  by  the 
construction  she  put  upon  it,  the  heart  of  the  Cornish  girl 
was  won  more  than  by  gold  and  silver. 

"I  shall  knoo  thee  again,  young  man;  no  fear  of  that," 
she  answered,  nodding  with  an  air  of  patronage.  "Now, 
missis,  gae  on  coortin',  and  I  will  gae  outside  and  watch  for 
'ee."  Though  expressed  not  over-delicately,  this  proposal 
arose,  no  doubt,  from  Gwenny's  sense  of  delicacy;  and  I 
was  very  thankful  to  her  for  taking  her  departure. 

"She  is  the  best  little  thing  in  the  world,"  said  Lorna, 
softly  laughing,  "  and  the  queerest,  and  the  truest.  Noth- 
ing will  bribe  her  against  me.     If  she  seems  to  be  on  the 


A  VERY  DESPERATE  VENTURE.  301 

other  side,  never,  never  doubt,  her.  Now  no  more  of  your 
*coortin'/ John!  I  love  you  far  too  well  for  that.  Yes, 
yes,  ever  so  much!  If  you  will  take  a  mean  advantage  of 
me — as  much  as  ever  you  like  to  imagine;  and  then  you 
may  double  it,  after  that.  Only  go,  do  go,  good  John; 
kind,  dear,  darling  John;  if  you  love  me,  go.'' 

^'How  can  1  go  without  settling  anything?"  I  asked, 
very  sensibly.  **  How  shall  I  know  of  your  danger  now? 
Hit  upon  something;  you  are  so  quick.  Anything  you  can 
think  of;  and  then  I  will  go,  and  not  frighten  you." 

^'I  have  been  thinking  long  of  something,"  Lorna 
answered  rapidly,  with  that  peculiar  clearness  of  voice, 
which  made  every  syllable  ring  like  music  of  a  several  note. 
'^You  see  that  tree  with  the  seven  rooks'  nests,  bright 
against  the  cliffs  there?  Can  you  count  them  from  above, 
do  you  think?  From  a  place  where  you  would  be  safe 
dear " 

"  No  doubt  I  can;  or,  if  I  cannot,  it  will  not  take  me 
long  to  find  a  spot  whence  I  can  do  it." 

''Gwenny  can  climb  like  any  cat.  She  has  been  up 
there  in  the  summer,  watching  the  young  birds,  day  by 
day,  and  daring  the  boys  to  touch  them.  There  are  neither 
birds  nor  eggs  there  now,  of  course,  and  nothing  doing. 
If  you  see  but  six  rooks'  nests,  I  am  in  peril,  and  want  you. 
If  you  see  but  five,  I  am  carried  off  by  Carver." 

*'Good  God!"  said  I,  at  the  mere  idea,  in  a  tone  which 
frightened  Lorna. 

*'  Fear  not,  John,"  she  whispered  sadly,  and  my  blood 
grew  cold  at  it;  "I  have  means  to  stop  him,  or  at  least  to 
save  myself.  If  you  can  come  within  one  day  of  that 
man's  getting  hold  of  me,  you  will  find  me  quite  unharmed. 
After  that  you  will  find  me,  dead  or  alive,  according  to  cir- 
cumstances, but  in  no  case  such  that  you  need  blush  to  look 
at  me." 

Her  dear  sweet  face  was  full  of  pride,  as  even  in  the 
gloom  I  saw;  and  I  would  not  trespass  on  her  feelings  by 
such  a  thing,  at  such  a  moment,  as  an  attempt  at  any 
caress.  I  only  said,  ''God  bless  you,  darling!"  and  she  said 
the  same  to  me,  in  a  very  low,  sad  voice.  And  then  I  stole 
below  Carver's  house  in  the  shadow  from  the  eastern  cliff; 
and  knowing  enough  of  the  village  now  to  satisfy  all  neces- 
sity, betook  myself  to  my  well-known  track  in  returning 


SO^  LORNA  DOONE, 

from  the  valley,  which  was  neither  down  the  water-slide  (a 
course  I  feared  in  the  darkness),  nor  up  the  cliffs  at  Lorna's 
bower,  but  a  way  of  my  own  inventing,  which  there  is  no 
need  to  dwell  upon. 

A  weight  of  care  was  off  my  mind,  though  much  of 
trouble  hung  there  still.  One  thing  was  quite  certain — if 
Lorna  could  not  have  John  Ridd,  no  one  else  should  have 
her.  And  my  mother,  who  sat  up  for  me,  and  with  me  long 
time  afterward,  agreed  that  this  was  comfort. 


A  GOOD  TURN  FOM  JERi^MY,  SOo 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

A   GOOD  TURN"   FOR  JEREMY. 

John"  Fry  had  now  six  shillings  a  week,  of  regular  and 
permanent  wage,  besides  all  harvest  and  shearing  money, 
as  well  as  a  cottage  rent  free,  and  enough  of  garden-ground 
to  rear  pot-herbs  for  his  wife  and  all  his  family.  Now  the 
wages  appointed  by  our  justices,  at  the  time  of  session, 
were  four-and- sixpence  a  week  for  summer,  and  a  shilling 
less  for  the  winter-time;  and  we  could  be  fined,  and  per- 
haps imprisoned,  for  giving  more  than  tlie  sums  so  fixed. 
Therefore  John  Fry  was  looked  upon  as  the  richest  man 
upon  Exmoor — I  mean,  of  course,  among  laborers — and 
there  were  many  jokes  about  robbing  him,  as  if  he  were  the 
Mint  of  the  King;  and  Tom  Faggus  promised  to  try  his 
hand,  if  he  came  across  John  on  the  highway,  although 
he  had  ceased  from  business,  and  was  seeking  a  royal 
pardon. 

Now  is  it  according  to  human  nature,  or  is  it  a  thing 
contradictory  (as  I  would  fain  believe)?  But  anyhow 
there  was,  upon  Exmoor,  no  more  discontented  man,  no 
man  more  sure  that  he  had  not  liis  worth,  neither  half  so 
sore  about  it,  than,  or  as,  John  Fry  was.  And  one  thing 
he  did  which  I  could  not  wholly  (or  indeed  I  may  say,  in 
any  measure)  reconcile  with  my  sense  of  right,  much  as  I 
labored  to  do  John  justice,  especially  because  of  his  roguery; 
and  this  was,  that  if  we  said  too  much,  or  accused  him  at 
all  of  laziness  (which  he  must  have  known  to  be  in  him), 
he  regularly  turned  round  upon  us,  and  quite  compelled 
us  to  hold  our  tongues,  by  threatening  to  lay  information 
against  us  for  paying  him  too  much  wages! 

Now  I  have  not  mentioned  all  this  of  John  Fry  from 
any  disrespect  for  his  memory  (Avhich  is  green  and  honest 
among  us),  far  less  from  any  desire  to  hurt  the  feeling  of 
Vis  grandchildren;  and  I  will  do  them  the  justice,  once 


S04  LORNA  t)OONE, 

for  all,  to  avow,  thus  publicly,  that  I  have  known  a  great 
many  bigger  rogues,  and  most  of  themselves  in  the  number. 
But  I  have  referred  with  moderation  to  this  little  flaw  in  a 
worthy  character  (or  foible,  as  we  call  it,  when  a  man  is 
dead)  for  this  reason  only — that  without  it  there  was  no 
explaining  John's  dealings  with  Jeremy  Stickles. 

Master  Jeremy,  being  full  of  London  and  Norwich  ex- 
perience, fell  into  the  error  of  supposing  that  we  clods  and 
yokels  were  the  simplest  of  the  simple,  and  could  be  cheated 
at  his  good  pleasure.  Now.  this  is  not  so;  when  once  we 
suspect  that  people  have  tfiat  idea  of  us,  we  indulge  them 
in  it  to  the  top  of  their  bent,  and  grieve  that  they  should 
come  out  of  it,  as  they  do  at  last  in  amazement,  with  less 
money  than  before,  and  the  laugh  now  set  against  them. 

Ever  since  I  had  offended  Jeremy  by  threatening  him 
(as  before  related)  in  case  of  his  meddling  with  my  affairs, 
he  had  more  and  more  allied  himself  with  simple-minded 
John,  as  he  was  pleased  to  call  him.  John  Fry  was  every- 
thing: it  was  "run  and  fetch  my  horse,  John" — '*John, 
are  my  pistols  primed  well?" — "  I  want  you  in  the  stable, 
John,  about  something  very  particular;"  until,  except  for 
the  rudeness  of  it,  I  was  longing  to  tell  Master  Stickles 
that  he  ought  to  pay  John's  wages.  John,  for  his  part, 
was  not  backward,  but  gave  himself  the  most  wonderful 
airs  of  secrecy  and  importance,  till  half  the  parish  began  to 
think  that  the  affairs  of  the  nation  were  in  his  hand,  and 
he  scorned  the  sight  of  a  dung-fork. 

It  was  not  likely  that  this  should  last;  and  being  the 
only  man  in  the  parish  with  any  knowledge  of  politics,  I 
gave  John  Fry  to  understand  that  he  must  not  presume  to 
talk  so  freely,  as  if  he  were  at  least  a  constable,  about  the 
constitution,  which  could  be  no  affair  of  his,  and  might 
bring  us  all  into  trouble.  At  this  he  only  tossed  his  nose, 
as  if  he  had  been  in  London  at  least  three  times  for  my 
one;  which  vexed  me  so  that  I  promised  him  the  thick  end 
of  the  plow-whip,  if  even  the  name  of  a  knight  of  the 
shire  should  pass  his  lips  for  a  fortnight. 

Now  I  did  not  suspect  in  my  stupid  noddle  that  John 
Fry  would  ever  tell  Jeremy  Stickles  about  the  sight  at  the 
Wizard's  Slough  and  the  man  in  the  white  night-cap,  be- 
cause John  had  sworn  on  the  blade  of  his  knife  not  to 
breathe  a  word  to  any  soul  without  my  full  permission. 


A  GOOD  STROKE  FOR  JEREMY.  305 

However,  it  appears  that  John  related,  for  a  certain  con- 
sideration, all  that  he  had  seen,  and,  doubtless,  more  which 
had  accrued  to  it.  Upon  this  Master  Stickles  was  much 
astonished  at  Uncle  Reuben's  proceedings,  having  always 
accounted  him  a  most  loyal,  keen  and  wary  subject. 

All  this  I  learned  upon  recovering  Jeremy's  good  graces, 
which  came  to  pass  in  no  other  way  than  by  the  saving  of 
his  life.  Being  bound  to  keep  the  strictest  watch  upon  the 
seven  rooks'  nests,  and  yet  not  bearing  to  be  idle  and  to  waste 
my  mother's  stores,  I  contrived  to  keep  my  work  entirely 
at  the  western  corner  of  our  farm,  which  was  nearest  to 
Glen  Doone,  and  whence  I  could  easily  run  to  a  height 
commanding  the  view  I  coveted. 

One  day  Squire  Faggus  had  dropped  in  upon  us,  just  in 
time  for  dinner;  and  very  soon  he  and  King's  messenger 
were  as  thick  as  need  be.  Tom  had  brought  his  beloved 
mare  to  show  her  oil  to  Annie,  and  he  mounted  his  pretty 
sweetheart  upon  her,  after  giving  Winnie  notice  to  be  on 
her  very  best  behavior.  The  squire  was  in  great  spirits, 
having  just  accomplished  a  purchase  of  land  whicli  was 
worth  ten  times  what  he  gave  for  it;  and  this  he  did  by  a 
merry  trick  upon  old  Sir  Roger  Bassett,  who  never  sup- 
posed him  to  be  in  earnest,  and  not  possessing  the  money. 
The  whole  thing  was  done  on  a  bumper  of  claret  in  a 
tavern  where  they  met;  and  the  old  knight  having  once 
pledged  his  word,  no  lawyers  could  hold  him  back 
from  it.  They  could  only  say  that  Master  Faggus,  being 
attainted  of  felony,  was  not  a  capable  grantee.  **I  will 
soon  cure  that,"  quoth  Tom;  ^'^  my  pardon  has  been  ready 
for  months  and  months,  so  soon  as  I  care  to  sue  for  it." 

And  now  he  was  telling  our  Annie,  who  listened  very 
rosily,  and  believed  every  word  he  said,  that,  having  been 
ruined  in  early  innocence  by  the  means  of  lawyers,  it  was 
only  just,  and  fair  turn  for  turn,  that,  having^  become  a 
match  for  them  by  long  practice  upon  the  highway,  he 
should  reinstate  himself,  at  their  expense,  in  society.  And 
now  he  would  go  to  London  at  once,  and  sue  out  his  par- 
don; and  then  would  his  lovely  darling  Annie,  etc.,  etc. — 
things  which  I  had  no  right  to  hear,  and  in  which  I  was 
not  wanted. 

Therefore  I  strode  away  up  the  lane  to  my  afternoon's 
employment,  sadly  comparing  my  love  with  theirs  (which 


306  lOniTA  DOON^. 

now  appeared  so  prosperous),  yet  heartily  glad  for  Annie's 
sake;  only  remembering  now  and  then  the  old  proverb, 
**  Wrong  never  comes  right." 

I  worked  very  hard  in  the  copse  of  yonng  ash,  with  my 
bill-hook  and  a  shearing-knife;  cutting  out  the  saplings 
where  they  stooled  too  close  together,  making  spars  to 
keep  for  thatching,  wall  crooks  to  drive  into  the  cob,  stiles 
for  close  sheep  hurdles,  and  handles  for  rakes,  and  hoes, 
and  two-bills,  of  the  larger  and  straighter  stuff.  And  all 
the  lesser  I  bound  in  fagots,  to  come  home  on  the  sledge 
to  the  wood-rick.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  I  did  all 
this  work  without  many  peeps  at  the  seven  rooks'  nests, 
which  proved  my  Lorna's  safety.  Indeed,  whenever  I 
wanted  a  change,  either  from  cleaving  or  hewing  too  hard, 
or  stooping  too  much  at  binding,  I  was  up  and  away  to  the 
ridge  of  the  hill,  instead  of  standing  and  doing  nothing. 

Soon  I  forgot  about  Tom  and  Annie,  and  fell  to  think- 
ing of  Lorna  only,  and  how  much  I  would  make  of  her, 
and  what  I  should  call  our  children,  and  how  I  would 
educate  them,  to  do  honor  to  her  rank;  yet  all  the  time  I 
worked  none  the  worse  by  reason  of  meditation.  Fresh-cut 
spars  are  not  so  good  as  those  of  a  little  seasoning,  espe- 
cially if  the  sap  was  not  gone  down  at  the  time  of  cut- 
tingl  Therefore  we  always  find  it  needful  to  have  plenty 
still  in  stock. 

It  was  very  pleasant  there  in  the  copse,  sloping  to  the 
west,  as  it  was,  and  the  sun  descending  brightly,  with  rocks 
and  banks  to  dwell  upon.  The  stems  of  mottled  and  dim- 
pled wood,  with  twigs  coming  out  like  elbows,  hung  and 
clung  together  closely,  with  a  mode  of  bending  in,  as 
children  do  at  some  danger;  overhead  the  shrunken  leaves 
quivered  and  rustled  ripely,  having  many  points  like  stars, 
and  rising  and  falling  delicately,  as  fingers  plav  sad  music. 
Along  the  bed  of  tlie  slanting  ground,  all  between  the 
stools  of  wood,  there  were  heaps  of  dead  brown  leaves,  and 
sheltered  mats  of  lichen,  and  drifts  of  spotted  stick  gone 
rotten,  and  tufts  of  rushes  here  and  there,  full  of  fray  and 
feathering. 

All  by  the  hedge  ran  a  little  stream,  a  thing  that  could 
barely  name  itself,  flowing  scarce  more  than  a  pint  in  a 
minute,  because  of  the  sunny  weather.  Yet  had  this  rill 
little  crooks  and  crannies,  dark  and  bravely  bearded,  and  d, 


A  GOOD  STROKE  FOB  JEREMY.  307 

gallant  rush  through  a  reeden  pipe — the  stem  of  a  flag  that 
was  grounded;  and  here  and  there  divided  threads,  from 
the  points  of  a  branching  stick,  into  mighty  pools  of  rock 
(as  large  as  a  grown  man's  hat  almost)  napped  with  moss 
all  around  the  sides,  and  hung  with  corded  grasses.  Along 
and  down  the  tiny  banks,  and  nodding  into  one  another, 
even  across  main  channel,  hung  the  brown  arcade  of  ferns; 
some  with  gold  tongues  languishing;  some  with  countless 
ear-drops  jerking;  some  with  great  quilled  ribs  uprising 
and  long  saws  a-flapping;  others  cupped,  and  fanning  over 
with  the  grace  of  yielding,  even  as  a  hollow  fountain  spread 
by  winds  that  have  lost  their  way. 

Deeply  each  beyond  other,  pluming,  stooping,  glancing, 
glistening,  weaving  softest  pillow-lace,  coying  to  the  wind 
and  water,  where  their  fleeting  image  danced,  or  by  which 
their  beauty  moved — God  has  made  no  lovelier  thing,  and 
only  he  takes  heed  of  them. 

It  was  time  to  go  home  to  supper  now,  and  I  felt  very 
friendly  toward  it,  having  been  hard  at  work  for  some  hours, 
with  only  the  voice  of  the  little  rill,  and  sjme  hares  and  a 
pheasant  for  company.  The  sun  was  gone  down  behind 
the  black  wood  on  the  further  cliffs  of  Bagworthy,  and  the 
russet  of  the  tufts  and  spear  beds  was  becoming  gray,  while 
the  grayness  of  the  sapling  ash  grew  brown  against  the  sky; 
the  hollow  curves  of  the  little  stream  became  black 
beneath  the  grasses  and  the  fairy  fans  innumerable;  while 
outside  the  hedge  our  clover  was  crimping  its  leaves  in  the 
dew-fall,  like  the  cocked  hats  of  wood-sorrel,  when  thank- 
ing God  for  all  this  scene,  because  my  love  had  gifted  me 
with  the  key  to  all  things  lovely,  I  prepared  to  follow  their 
example,  and  to  rest  from  labor. 

Therefore  I  wiped  my  bill-hook  and  shearing-knife  very 
carefully,  for  I  hate  to  leave  tools  dirty,  and  was  doubting 
whether  I  should  try  for  another  glance  at  the  seven  rooks' 
nest,  or  whether  it  would  be  too  dark  for  it.  It  was  now 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  mayhap  since  I  had  made  any  chop- 
ping noise,  because  I  had  been  assorting  my  spars,  and  tying 
them  in  bundles,  instead  of  plying  the  bill-hook;  and  the 
gentle  tinkle  of  the  stream  was  louder  than  my  doing.  To 
this,  no  doubt,  I  owe  my  life,  which  then  (without  my 
dreaming  it)  was  in  no  little  jeopardy. 

For,  just  as  I  was  twisting  the  bine  of  my  very  last  fagot. 


308  LORNA  BOONE. 

before  tucking  the  cleft  tongue  under,  there  came  three 
men  outside  the  hedge,  where  the  western  light  was  yellow; 
and  by  it  I  could  see  that  all  three  of  them  carried  fire- 
arms. These  men  were  not  walking  carelessly,  but  follow- 
ing down  the  hedge-trough,  as  if  to  stalk  some  enemy; 
and  for  a  moment  it  struck  me  cold  to  think  it  was  I  they 
were  looking  for.  With  the  swiftness  of  terror  I  con- 
cluded that  my  visits  to  Glen  Doone  were  known,  and  now 
my  life  was  the  forfeit. 

It  was  a  most  lucky  thing  for  me  that  I  heard  their 
clothes  catch  in  the  brambles,  and  saw  their  hats  under  the 
rampart  of  ash,  which  is  made  by  what  we  call  **  splash- 
ing," and  lucky  for  me  that  I  stood  in  a  goyal,  and  had 
the  dark  coppice  behind  me.  To  this  I  had  no  time  to  fly, 
but  with  a  sort  of  instinct  threw  myself  flat  in  among  the 
thick  fern  and  held  my  breath,  and  lay  still  as  a  log.  For 
1  had  seen  the  light  gleam  on  their  gun-barrels,  and  know- 
ing the  faults  of  the  neighborhood,  would  fain  avoid 
swelling  their  number.  Then  the  three  men  came  to  the 
gap  in  the  hedge  where  I  had  been  in  and  out  so  often,  and 
stood  up  and  looked  in  over. 

It  is  all  very  well  for  a  man  to  boast  that,  in  all  his  life, 
he  has  never  been  frightened,  and  believes  that  he  never 
could  be  so.  There  may  be  men  of  that  nature — I  will  not 
dare  to  deny  it;  only  I  have  never  known  them.  The 
fright  I  was  now  in  was  horrible,  and  all  my  bones  seemed 
to  creep  inside  me;  when  lying  there  helpless,  with  only  a 
billet  and  the  comb  of  fern  to  hide  me,  in  the  dusk  of 
early  evening,  I  saw  three  faces  in  the  gap;  and,  what  was 
worse,  three  gun-muzzles. 

'^Somebody  been  at  work  here "   it  was  the  deep 

voice  of  Carver  Doone;  '^jump  up,  Charlie,  and  look 
about;  we  must  have  no  witnesses.^' 

*'Give  me  a  hand  behind,"  said  Charlie,  the  same  hand- 
some young  Doone  I  had  seen  that  night;  '*  this  bank  is 
too  devilish  steep  for  me." 

**  Nonsense,  man! "  cried  Mar  wood  de  Whichehalse,  who, 
to  my  amazement,  was  the  third  of  the  number;  '^only  a 
hind  cutting  fagots;  and  of  course  he  hath  gone  home  long 
ago.  Blind  man's  holiday,  as  we  call  it.  I  can  see  all  over 
the  place;  and  there  is  not  even  a  rabbit  there." 

At  that  I  drew  my  breath  again,  and  thanked  God  I  had 
gotten  my  coat  on. 


A  GOOD  STROKE  FOR  JEREMY.  309 

"  Squire  is  right/'  said  Charlie,  who  was  standing  up 
high  (on  a  root,  perhaps),  *'  there  is  nobody  there  now, 
captain;  and  lucky  for  the  poor  devil  that  he  keepeth 
workman's  hours.     Even  his  chopper  is  gone,  I  see." 

**No  dog,  no  man,  is  the  rule  about  here,  when  it  cornea 
to  coppice-work,''  continued  young  De  Whichehalse;  "there 
is  not  a  man  would  dare  work  there,  without  a  dog  to  scare 
the  pixies." 

*'  There  is  a  big  young  fellow  upon  this  farm,"  Carver 
Doone  muttered  sulkily,  "  with  whom  I  have  an  account  to 
settle,  if  ever  I  come  across  him.  He  hath  a  cursed  spite  to 
us,  because  we  shot  his  father.  He  was  going  to  bring  the 
lumpers  upon  us,  only  he  was  afeared,  last  winter.  And 
he  hath  been  in  London  lately,  for  some  traitorous  job,  I 
doubt." 

"Oh,  you  mean  that  fool,  John  Ridd,"  answered  the 
young  squire;  "  a  very  simple  clod-hopper.  No  treachery 
in  him,  I  warrant;  he  hath  not  the  head  for  it.  All  he 
cares  about  is  wrestling.  As  strong  as  a  bull,  and  with  no 
more  brains." 

"  A  bullet  for  that  bull,"  said  Carver;  and  I  could  see 
the  grin  on  his  scornful  face;  "a  bullet  for  ballast  to  his 
brain,  the  first  time  I  come  across  him." 

"Nonsense,  captain!  I  won't  have  him  shot,  for  he  is 
my  old  school-fellow,  and  hath  a  very  pretty  sister.  But  his 
cousin  is  of  a  different  mold,  and  ten  times  as  dangerous." 

"  We  shall  see,  lads,  we  shall  see,"  grumbled  the  great 
black-bearded  man.  "  111  bodes  for  the  fool  that  would 
hinder  me.  But  come,  let  us  onward.  No  lingering,  or 
the  viper  will  be  in  the  bush  from  us.  Body  and  soul,  if 
he  gives  us  the  slip,  both  of  you  shall  answer  it." 

"  No  fear,  captain,  and  no  hurry,"  Charlie  answered, 
gallantly;  "would  I  were  as  sure  of  living  a  twelvemonth 
as  he  is  of  dying  within  the  hour!  Extreme  unction  for 
him  in  my  bullet-patch.  Eemember,  I  claim  to  be  his 
confessor,  because  he  hath  insulted  me." 

"Thou  art  welcome  to  the  job  for  me,"  said  Marwood, 
as  they  turned  away  and  kept  along  the  hedge-row;  "  I 
love  to  meet  a  man  sword  to  sword,  not  to  pop  at  him  from 
a  fox-hole." 

What  answer  was  made  I  could  not  hear,  for  by  this  time 
the  stout  ashen  hedge  was  between  us,  and  no  other  gap  to 


310  LORNA  DOONll 

be  found  in  it,  until  at  the  very  bottom,  where  the  corner 
of  the  copse  was.  Yet  I  was  not  quit  of  danger  now;  for 
they  might  come  through  the  second  gap,  and  then  would 
be  sure  to  see  me,  unless  I  crept  into  the  uncut  thicket  be- 
fore they  could  enter  tlie  clearing.  But  in  spite  of  all  my 
fear,  I  was  not  wise  enough  to  do  that.  And  in  truth  the 
words  of  Carver  Doone  had  filled  me  with  such  anger, 
knowing  what  I  did  about  him  and  his  pretense  to  Lorna; 
and  the  sight  of  Squire  Marwood  in  such  outrageous  com- 
pany had  so  moved  my  curiosity,  and  their  threats  against 
some  unknown  person  so  aroused  my  pit}^,  that  much  of 
my  prudence  was  forgotten,  or  at  least  tlie  better  part  of 
courage,  which  loves  danger  at  long  distance. 

Therefore,  holding  fast  my  bill-hook,  I  dropped  myself 
very  quietly  into  the  bed  of  the  runnel,  being  resolved  to 
take  my  chance  of  their  entrance  at  the  corner  where  the 
water  dived  through  the  hedge-row.  And  so  I  followed 
them  down  the  fence  as  gently  as  a  rabbit  goes,  only  I  was 
inside  it,  and  they  on  the  outside;  but  yet  so  near  that  I 
heard  the  branches  rustle  as  they  pushed  them. 

Perhaps  I  had  never  loved  ferns  so  much  as  when  I  came 
to  the  end  of  that  little  gully,  and  stooped  betwixt  two 
patches  of  them,  now  my  chiefest  shelter;  for  cattle  had 
been  through  the  gap  just  there,  in  quest  of  fodder  and 
coolness,  and  had  left  but  a  mound  of  trodden  earth  be- 
tween me  and  the  outlaws.  I  mean  at  least  on  my  left 
hand  (upon  which  side  they  were),  for  in  front,  where  the 
brook  ran  out  of  the  copse,  was  a  good  stiff  hedge  of  holly. 
And  now  I  prayed  Heaven  to  lead  them  straight  on;  for  if 
th^y  once  turned  to  their  right  through  the  gap,  the  muz- 
zles of  their  guns  would  come  almost  against  my  forehead. 

I  heard  them — for  I  durst  not  look,  and  could  scarce 
keep  still,  for  trembling — I  heard  them  trampling  outside 
the  gap,  uncertain  which  track  they  should  follow.  And 
in  that  fearful  moment,  with  my  soul  almost  looking  out 
of  my  body,  expecting  notice  to  quit  it,  what  do  you  think 
I  did?  I  counted  the  threads  in  a  spider's  web,  and  the 
flies  he  had  lately  eaten;  as  their  skeletons  shook  in  the 
twilight. 

*'  We  shall  see  him  better  in  there,"  said  Carver,  in  his 
horrible  gruff  voice,  like  the  creaking  of  the  gallows  chain; 
*'sit  there  behind  holly  hedge,  lads,  while  he  cometh  down 


A  GOOD  STROKE  FOR  JEREMY.  311 

yonder  hill;  and  then  our  good-evening  to  him;  one  at  his 
body,  and  two  at  his  head;  and  good  aim,  lest  we  balk  the 
devil/' 

**  I  tell  you,  captain,  that  will  not  do,"  said  Charlie, 
almost  whispering:  *'you  are  very  proud  of  your  skill,  we 
kuow^  and  can  hit  a  lark  if  you  see  it:  but  he  may  not 
come  until  after  dark,  and  we  cannot  be  too  nigh  to  him. 
This  holly  hedge  is  too  far  away.  He  crosses  down  here 
from  Slocombslade,  not  from  Tibbacot,  I  tell  you;  but 
along  that  track  to  the  left  there,  and  so  by  the  foreland 
to  Glenthorne,  where  his  boat  is  in  the  cove.  Do  you 
think  I  have  tracked  him  so  many  evenings,  without  know- 
ing his  line  to  a  hair?   Will  you  fool  away  all  my  trouble?" 

**Come,  then,  lad;  we  will  follow  thy  lead.  Thy  life  for 
his,  if  we  fail  of  it." 

''  After  me,  then,  right  into  the  hollow;  thy  legs  are 
growing  stiff,  captain." 

*'  So  shall  thy  body  be,  young  man,  if  thou  leadest  me 
astray  in  this." 

I  heard  them  stumbling  down  the  hill,  which  was  steep 
and  rocky  in  that  part;  and  peering  through  the  hedge,  1 
saw  them  enter  a  covert  by  the  side  of  the  track  which 
Master  Stickles  followed  almost  every  evening,  when  he 
left  our  house  upon  business.  And  then  I  knew  who  it 
was  they  were  come  on  purpose  to  murder — a  thing  which 
I  might  have  guessed  long  before,  but  for  terror  and  cold 
stupidity. 

*'0h  that  God,"  I  thought  for  a  moment,  waiting  for 
my  blood  to  flow — '^  oh  that  God  had  given  me  brains  to 
meet  such  cruel  dastards  according  to  their  villainy.  The 
power  to  lie  and  the  love  of  it;  the  stealth  to  spy  and  the 
glory  in  it;  above  all,  the  quiet  relish  for  blood,  and  joy  in 
the  death  of  an  enemy — these  are  what  any  man  must  have 
to  contend  with  the  Doones  upon  even  terms.  And  yet  I 
thank  God  that  I  have  not  any  of  these." 

It  was  no  time  to  dwell  upon  that,  only  to  try,  if  might 
be,  to  prevent  the  crime  they  were  bound  upon.  To  follow 
the  armed  men  down  the  hill  would  have  been  certain 
death  to  me,  because  there  was  no  covert  there,  and  the 
last  light  hung  upon  it.  It  seemed  to  me  that  my  only 
chance  to  stop  the  mischief  pending  was  to  compass  the 
round  of  the  hill  as  fast  as  feet  could  be  laid  to  ground, 


312  LORNA  BOONE. 

only  keeping  out  of  sight  from  the  valley,  and  then  down 
the  rocks  and  across  the  brook  to  the  track  from  Slocomb- 
slade,  so  as  to  stop  the  King's  messenger  from  traveling 
any  farther,  if  only  I  could  catch  him  there. 

And  this  was  exactly  what  I  did;  and  a  terrible  run  I 
had  for  it,  fearing  at  every  step  to  hear  the  echo  of  shots 
in  the  valley  dropping  down  the  scrubby  rocks  with  tearing 
and  violent  scratching.  Then  I  crossed  Bagworthy  stream 
not  far  below  Doon-valley,  and  breasted  the  hill  toward 
Slocombslade,  with  my  heart  very  heavily  panting.  Why 
Jeremy  chose  to  ride  this  way,  instead  of  the  more  direct 
one  (which  would  have  been  over  Oarehill),  was  more  than 
I  could  account  for:  but  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  that;  all 
I  wanted  was  to  save  his  life. 

And  this  I  did  by  about  a  minute,  and  (which  was  the 
hardest  thing  of  all)  with  a  great  horse-pistol  at  my  head, 
as  I  seized  upon  his  bridle. 

*'  Jeremy,  Jerry,"  was  all  I  could  say,  being  so  fearfully 
short  of  breath;  for  I  had  crossed  the  ground  quicker  than 
any  horse  could. 

"  Spoken  just  in  time,  John  Kidd!"  cried  Master  Stickles, 
still,  however,  pointing  the  pistol  at  me;  "  I  might  have 
known  thee  by  thy  size,  John.     What  art  doing  here?" 

'^  Oome  to  save  your  life.  For  God's  sake,  go  no  farther. 
Three  men  in  the  covert  there,  with  long  guns,  waiting 
for  thee." 

"Ha!  I  have  been  watched  of  late.  That  is  why  I 
pointed  at  thee,  John.  Back  round  this  corner  and  get 
thy  breath,  and  tell  me  all  about  it.  I  never  saw  a  man  so 
hurried.     I  could  beat  thee  now,  John." 

Jeremy  Stickles  was  a  man  of  courage  and  presence  of 
mind,  and  much  resource:  otherwise  he  would  not  have 
been  appointed  for  this  business;  nevertheless,  he  trembled 
greatly  when  he  heard  what  I  had  to  tell  him.  But  I  took 
good  care  to  keep  back  the  name  of  young  Mar  wood  de 
Whichehalse;  neither  did  I  show  my  knowledge  of  the 
other  men,  for  reasons  of  my  own  not  very  hard  to  con- 
jecture. 

''  We  will  let  them  cool  their  heels,  John  Ridd,"  said 
Jeremy,  after  thinking  a  little.  "I  cannot  fetch  my  mus- 
keteers either  from  Glenthorne  or  Lynmouth  in  time  to 
seize  the  fellows.     And  three  desperate  Doones,  well  armed. 


A  OOOD  STROKE  FOR  JEREMY.  313 

are  too  many  for  you  and  me.  One  result  this  attempt  will 
have;  it  will  make  us  attack  them  sooner  than  we  had 
intended.  And  one  more  it  will  have,  good  John;  it  will 
make  me  thy  friend  forever.  Shake  hands,  my  lad,  and 
forgive  me  freely  for  having  been  so  cold  to  thee.  Mayhap, 
in  the  troubles  coming,  it  will  help  thee  not  a  little  to  have 
done  me  this  good  turn." 

Upon  that  he  shook  me  by  the  hand,  with  a  pressure 
such  as  we  feel  not  often;  and  having  learned  from  me  how 
to  pass  quite  beyond  view  of  his  enemies,  he  rode  on  to  his 
duty,  whatever  it  might  be.  For  my  part  I  was  inclined  to 
stay,  and  watch  how  long  the  three  fusileers  would  have 
the  patience  to  lie  in  wait;  but  seeing  less  and  less  use  in 
that,  as  I  grew  more  aiid  riore  hungry,  I  swung  my  coat 
about  me,  and  went  home  ^  Plovers  Barrows. 


314  LORNA  DOONE. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

A  TROUBLED  STATE   AND   A   FOOLISH   JOKE. 

Stickles  took  me  aside  the  next  day,  and  opened  all  his 
business  to  me,  whether  I  would  or  not.  But  I  gave  him 
clearly  to  understand  that  he  was  not  to  be  vexed  with  me, 
neither  to  regard  me  as  in  any  way  dishonest,  if  I  should 
use  for  my  own  purpose,  or  for  the  benefit  of  my  friends, 
any  part  of  the  knowledge  and  privity  thus  enforced  upon 
me.  To  this  he  agreed  quite  readily;  but  upon  the  express 
provision  that  I  should  do  nothing  to  thwart  his  schemes, 
neither  unfold  them  to  any  one;  but  otherwise  be  allowed 
to  act  according  to  my  own  conscience,  and  as  consisted 
with  the  honor  of  a  loyal  gentleman — for  so  he  was  pleased 
to  term  me.  Now  what  he  said  lay  in  no  great  compass, 
and  may  be  summed  in  smaller  still,  especially  as  people 
know  the  chief  part  of  it  already.  Disaffection  to  the 
King,  or,  rather,  dislike  to  his  brother  James,  and  fear  of 
Roman  ascendancy,  had  existed  now  for  several  years,  and 
of  late  were  spreading  rapidly;  partly  through  the  down- 
right arrogance  of  the  Tory  faction,  the  cruelty  and  aus- 
terity of  the  Duke  of  York,  the  corruption  of  justice,  and 
confiscation  of  ancient  rights  and  charters;  partly  through 
jealousy  of  the  French  king,  and  his  potent  voice  in  our 
affairs;  and  partly  (or  perhaps  one  might  even  say,  mainly) 
through  that  natural  tide  in  all  political  channels  which 
verily  moves  as  if  it  had  the  moon  itself  for  its  mistress.  No 
sooner  is  a  thing  done  and  fixed,  being  set  far  in  advance 
perhaps  of  all  that  was  done  before  (like  a  new  mole  in  the 
sea),  but  immediately  the  waters  retire,  lest  they  should 
undo  it;  and  every  one  says  how  fine  it  is,  but  leaves  other 
people  to  walk  on  it.  Then  after  a  while,  the  vague,  end- 
less ocean,  having  retired  and  lain  still  without  a  breeze  or 
murmur,  frets  and  heaves  again  with  impulse,  or  with 


A  TWUBLED  STATE  AND  A  FOOLISH  JOAE,       315 

Jaslies  laid  on  it,  and  in  one  great  surge  advances  over  every 
rampart. 

And  so  there  was,  at  the  time  I  speak  of,  a  great  surge 
in  England,  not  rolling  yet,  but  seething;  and  one  which  a 
thousand  chief -justices,  and  a  million  Jeremy  Stickles, 
should  never  be  able  to  stop  or  turn,  by  stringing  up  men 
in  front  of  it,  any  more  than  a  rope  of  onions  can  repulse 
a  volcano.  But  the  worst  of  it  was  that  this  great  move- 
ment took  a  wrong  channel  at  first;  not  only  missing  legiti- 
mate line,  but  roaring  out  that  the  back  ditch-way  was  the 
true  and  established  course  of  it. 

Against  this  rash  and  random  current  nearly  all  the 
ancient  mariners  of  the  State  were  set;  not  to  allow  the 
brave  ship  to  drift  there,  though  some  little  boats  might 
try  it.  For  the  present  there  seemed  to  be  a  pause,  with 
no  open  onset,  but  people  on  the  shore  expecting,  each  ac- 
cording to  his  wishes,  and  the  feel  of  his  own  finger, 
whence  the  rush  of  wind  should  come  which  might  direct 
the  water. 

Now — to  reduce  high  figures  of  speech  into  our  own 
little  numerals — all  the  towns  of  Somersetshire  and  half 
the  towns  of  Devonshire  were  full  of  pushing,  eager  people, 
ready  to  swallow  anything,  or  to  make  others  swallow  it. 
Whether  they  believed  the  folly  about  the  black  box,  and 
all  that  stuff,  is  not  for  me  to  say;  only  one  thing  I  know, 
thoy  pretended  to  do  so,  and  persuaded  the  ignorant  rus- 
tics. Taunton,  Bridgewater,  Minehead  and  Dulverton 
took  the  lead  of  the  other  towns  in  utterance  of  their  dis- 
content, and  threats  of  what  they  meant  to  do  if  ever  a 
Papist  dared  to  climb  the  Protestant  throne  of  England. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Tory  leaders  were  not  as  yet  under 
apprehension  o<  an  immediate  outbreak,  and  feared  to 
damage  their  own  cause  by  premature  coercion;  for  the 
struggle  was  not  very  likely  to  begin  in  earnest  during  the 
life  of  the  present  King,  unless  he  should  (as  some  people 
hoped)  be  so  far  emboldened  as  to  make  public  confession 
of  the  faith  which  he  held  (if  any).  So  the  Tory  policy 
was  to  watch,  not  indeed  permitting  their  opponents  to 
gather  strength,  and  muster  in  armed  force  or  with  order, 
but  being  well  apprised  of  all  their  schemes  and  intended 
movements,  to  wait  for  some  bold  overt  act,  and  then  to 
strike  severely.     And  as  a  Tory  watchman — or  spy,  as  the 


316  LORNA  DOONB. 

Whigs  would  call  him — Jeremy  Stickles  was  now  among 
us;  and  his  duty  was  threefold. 

First,  and  most  ostensibly,  to  see  to  the  levying  of 
poundage  in  the  little  haven  of  Lynmouth',  and  further  up 
the  coast,  which  was  now  becoming  a  place  of  resort  for  the 
folk  whom  we  call  smugglers,  that  is  to  say,  who  land  their 
goods  without  regard  to  King^s  revenue  as  by  law  estab- 
lished. And,  indeed,  there  had  been  no  officer  appointed 
to  take  toll,  until  one  had  been  sent  to  Minehead,  not  so 
very  long  before.  The  excise  as  well  (which  had  been 
ordered  in  the  time  of  the  Long  Parliament)  had  been 
little  heeded  by  the  people  hereabouts. 

Second,  his  duty  was  (though  only  the  Dooncs  had  dis- 
covered it)  to  watch  those  outlaws  narrowly,  and  report  of 
their  manners  (which  were  scanty),  doings  (which  were  too 
manifold),  reputation  (which  was  execrable),  and  politics, 
whether  true  to  the  King  and  the  Pope,  or  otherwise. 

Jeremy  Stickles'  third  business  was  entirely  political — 
to  learn  the  temper  of  our  people  and  the  gentle  families; 
to  watch  the  movements  of  the  trained  bands  (which  could 
not  always  be  trusted);  to  discover  any  collecting  of  arms 
and  drilling  of  men  among  us;  to  prevent  (if  need  were, 
by  open  force)  any  importation  of  gunpowder,  of  which 
there  had  been  some  rumor;  in  a  word,  to  observe  and 
forestall  the  enemy. 

Now,  in  providing  for  this  last-mentioned  service,  the 
Government  had  made  a  great  mistake,  doubtless  through 
their  anxiety  to  escape  any  public  attention.  For  all  the 
disposable  force  at  their  emissary's  command  amounted  to 
no  more  than  a  score  of  musketeers,  and  these  so  divided 
along  the  coast  as  scarcely  to  suffice  for  the  duty  of  sen- 
tinels. He  held  a  commission,  it  is  true,  for  the  employ- 
ment of  the  train-bands,  but  upon  the  understanding  that 
he  was  not  to  call  upon  them  (except  as  a  last  resource)  for 
any  political  object;  although  he  might  use  them  against 
the  Doones  as  private  criminals,  if  found  needful,  and 
supposing  that  he  could  get  them. 

*^  So  you  see,  John,''  he  said,  in  conclusion,  *'  I  have 
more  work  than  tools  to  do  it  with.  I  am  heartily  sorry  I 
ever  accepted  such  a  mixed  and  meagre  commission.  At 
the  bottom  of  it  lies  (I  am  well  convinced)  not  only  the 
desire  to  keep  things  quiet,  but  the  paltry  jealousy  of  the 


A  TKOUBLED  STATE  AND  A  FOOLISH  JOKE.        317 

military  people.  Because  I  am  not  a  colonel,  forsooth,  or 
a  captain  in  His  Majesty's  service,  it  would  never  do  to 
trust  me  with  a  company  of  soldiers!  And  yet  they  would 
not  send  either  colonel  or  captain,  for  fear  of  a  stir  in  the 
rustic  mind.  The  only  thing  that  I  can  do  with  any 
chance  of  success,  is  to  rout  out  these  vile  Doone  fellows, 
and  burn  their  houses  over  their  heads.  Now,  what  think 
you  of  that,  John  Ridd?" 

**  Destroy  the  town  of  the  Doones,"  I  said,  "  and  all 
the  Doones  inside  it!  Surely,  Jeremy,  you  would  never 
think  of  such  a  cruel  act  as  that?" 

^*  A  cruel  act,  John!  It  would  be  a  mercy  for  at  least 
three  counties.  No  doubt  you  folk,  who  live  so  near,  are 
well  accustomed  to  them,  and  would  miss  your  liveliness  in 
coming  home  after  night-fall,  and  the  joy  of  finding  your 
sheep  and  cattle  right  when  you  not  expected  it.  But 
after  a  while  you  might  get  used  to  the  dullness  of  being 
safe  in  your  beds,  and  not  losing  your  sisters  and  sweet- 
hearts. Surely,  on  the  whole,  it  is  as  pleasant  not  to  be 
robbed  as  to  be  robbed  ?" 

^'  I  think  we  should  miss  them  very  much,"  I  answered, 
after  consideration;  for  the  possibility  of  having  no  Doones 
had  never  yet  occurred  to  me,  and  we  all  were  so 
thoroughly  used  to  them,  and  allowed  for  it  in  one  year's 
reckoning;  **I  am  sure  we  should  miss  them  very  sadly; 
and  something  worse  would  come  of  it." 

'*  Thou  art  the  staunchest  of  all  staunch  Tories,"  cried 
Stickles,  laughing  as  he  shook  my  hand.  *'  Thou  believest 
in  the  divine  right  of  robbers,  who  are  good  enough  to 
steal  thy  own  fat  sheep.  I  am  a  jolly  Tory,  John;  but 
thou  art  ten  times  jollier;  oh,  the  grief  in  thy  face  at  the 
thought  of  being  robbed  no  longer!" 

He  laughed  in  a  very  unseemly  manner,  while  I 
described  nothing  to  laugh  about.  For  we  always  like  to 
see  our  way;  and  a  sudden  change  upsets  us.  And  unless 
it  were  in  the  loss  of  the  farm,  or. the  death  of  the  King, 
or  of  Betty  Muxworthy,  there  was  nothing  that  could  so 
unsettle  our  minds  as  the  loss  of  the  Doones  of  Bagworthy. 

And  besides  all  this,  I  was  thinking,  of  course,  and 
thinking  more  than  all  the  rest,  about  the  troubles  that 
might  ensue  to  my  own  beloved  Lorna.  If  an  attack  of 
Glen  Doone  were  made  by  savage  soldiers  and  rude  train- 


B18  LORNA  BOONE, 

bands,  what  might  happen,  or  what  might  not,  to  my  del- 
icate, innocent  darling?  Therefore,  when  Jeremy  Stickles 
again  placed  the  matter  before  me,commending  my  strength, 
and  courage,  and  skill  (to  flatter  me  of  the  highest),  and 
finished  by  saying  that  I  would  be  worth  at  least  four 
common  men  to  him,  I  cut  him  short  as  follows: 

''Master  Stickles,  once  for  all,  I  will  have  naught  to  do 
with  it.  The  reason  why  is  no  odds  of  thine,  nor  in  any 
way  disloyal.  Only  in  thy  plans  remember  that  I  will  not 
strike  a  blow,  neither  give  any  counsel,  neither  guard  any 
prisoners.'' 

''  Not  strike  a  blow,''  cried  Jeremy,  '*  against  thy  fath- 
er's murderers,  John!" 

"Not  a  single  blow,  Jeremy;  unless  I  knew  the  man 
who  did  it,  and  he  gloried  in  his  sin.  It  was  a  foul  and 
dastard  deed,  yet  not  done  in  cold  blood;  neither  in  cold 
blood  will  I  take  God's  task  of  avenging  it." 

*' Very  well,  John,"  answered  Master  Stickles,  *'Iknow 
thine  obstinacy.  When  thy  mind  is  made  up,  to  argue 
with  thee  is  pelting  a  rock  with  pepper-corns.  But  thou 
has  some  other  reason,  lad,  unless  I  am  much  mistaken, 
over  and  above  tliy  merciful  nature  and  Christian  forgive- 
ness. Anyhow,  come  and  see  it,  John.  There  will  be 
good  sport,  I  reckon;  especially  when  we  thrust  our  claws 
into  the  nest  of  the  ravens.  Many  a  yoeman  will  find  his 
daughter,  and  some  of  the  Porlock  lads  their  sweethearts. 
A  nice  young  maiden,  now,  for  thee,  John;  if,  indeed, 
any " 

''  No  more  of  this!"  I  answered,  very  sternly;  *'it  is  no 
business  of  thine,  Jeremy;  and  I  will  have  no  joking  upon 
this  matter." 

"  Good,  my  lord:  so  be  it.  But  one  thing  I  tell  thee  in 
earnest:  we  will  have  thy  old  double-dealing  uncle.  Hucka- 
back of  Dulverton,  and  march  him  first  to  assault  Doone 
Castle,  sure  as  my  name  is  Stickles.  I  hear  that  he  hath 
often  vowed  to  storm  the  valley  himself,  if  only  he  could 
find  a  dozen  musketeers  to  back  him.  Now  we  will  give 
him  chance  to  do  it,  and  prove  his  loyalty  to  the  King, 
which  lies  under  some  suspicion  of  late." 

With  regard  to  this  I  had  nothing  to  say;  for  it  seemed 
to  me  very  reasonable  that  Uncle  Reuben  should  have  first 
chance  of  recovering  his  stolen  goods,  about  which  he  had 


A  TROUBLED  STATE  AND  A  FOOLISH  JOKE.        319 

1  .ade  ::uch  a  sad  to  do,  and  promised  himself  such  venge- 
ance. I  made  bold,  however,  to  ask  Master  Stickles  at 
what  time  he  intended  to  carry  out  this  great  and  hazard- 
ous attempt.  He  answered  that  he  had  several  things  re- 
quiring first  to  be  set  in  order,  and  that  he  must  make  an 
inland  journey,  even  as  far  as  Tiverton,  and  perhaps 
Crediton  and  Exeter,  to  collect  his  forces  and  ammunition 
for  them.  For  he  meant  to  have  some  of  the  yeomanry  as 
well  as  of  the  train-bands,  so  that  if  the  Doones  should 
sally  forth,  as  perhaps  they  would,  on  horseback,  cavalry 
might  be  there  to  meet  them,  and  cut  them  off  from 
returning. 

All  this  made  me  very  uncomfortable,  for  many  and 
many  reasons,  the  chief  and  foremost  being  of  course  my 
anxiety  about  Lorna.  If  the  attack  succeeded,  wliat  was 
to  become  of  her?  Who  would  rescue  her  from  the  brutal 
soldiers,  even  supposing  that  she  escaped  from  the  hands 
of  her  own  people,  during  the  danger  and  ferocity?  And 
in  smaller  ways  1  was  much  put  out;  for  instance,  who 
would  insure  our  corn-ricks,  sheep,  and  cattle,  ay,  and 
even  our  fat  pigs,  now  coming  on  for  bacon,  against  the 
spreading  all  over  the  country  of  unlicensed  marauders? 
The  Doones  had  their  rights,  and  understood  tliem,  and 
took  them  according  to  prescription,  even  as  the  parsons 
had,  and  the  lords  of  manors,  and  the  King  liimself,  God 
save  him!  But  how  were  these  low  soldiering  fellows  (half 
starved  at  home,  very  likely,  and  only  too  glad  of  the  fat 
of  the  land,  and  ready,  according  to  our  proverb,  to  burn 
the  paper  they  fried  in),  wlio  were  they,  to  come  hectoring 
and  heroing  over  us,  and  Heliogabalizing,  with  our  pretty 
sisters  to  cook  for  them,  and  be  chucked  under  the  chin 
perhaps  afterward?  There  is  nothing  England  hates  so 
much,  according  to  my  sense  of  it,  as  that  fellows  taken 
from  plow-tail,  cart-tail,  pot-houses,  and  parish-stocks, 
should  be  hoisted  and  foisted  upon  us  (after  a  few  months' 
drilling,  and  their  lying  shaped  into  truckling)  as  defend- 
ers of  the  public  weal,  and  heroes  of  the  universe. 

In  another  way  I  was  vexed,  moreover — for  after  all  we 
must  consider  the  opinions  of  our  neighbors — namely,  that 
I  knew  quite  well  how  every  body  for  ten  miles  round  (for 
my  fame  must  have  been  at  least  that  wide,  after  all  my 
wrestling)  would  lift  up  hands  and  cry  out  thus:  *^  Black 
shame  on  John  Ridd,  if  he  lets  them  go  without  him/' 


320  LORNA  BOONE. 

Putting  all  these  things  together,  as  well  as  many  others, 
which  your  own  wits  will  suggest  to  5^ou,  it  is  impossible 
but  what  you  will  freely  acknowledge  that  this  unfortunate 
John  Ridd  was  now  in  a  cloven  stick.  There  was  Lorna, 
my  love  and  life,  bound  by  her  duty  to  that  old  vil — nay,  1 
mean  to  her  good  grandfather,  who  could  now  do  little 
mischief,  and  therefore  deserved  all  praise — Lorna,  bound 
at  any  rate,  by  her  womanly  feelings,  if  not  by  her  sense  of 
duty,  to  remain  in  the  thick  of  danger,  with  nobody  to 
protect  her,  but  everybody  to  covet  her,  for  beauty  and 
position.  Here  was  all  the  country  roused  with  violent  ex- 
citement, at  the  chance  of  snapping  at  the  Doones;  and 
not  only  getting  tit  for  tat,  but  every  young  man  promising 
his  sweetheart  a  gold  chain,  and  his  mother  at  least  a  shil- 
ling. And  here  was  our  own  mow-yard,  better  filled  than 
we  could  remember,  and  perhaps  every  sheaf  in  it  destined 
to  be  burned  or  stolen,  before  we  had  finished  the  bread 
we  had  baked. 

Among  all  these  troubles,  there  was  however,  or  seemed 
to  be,  one  comfort.  Tom  Faggus  returned  from  London  very 
proudly  and  very  happily,  with  a  royal  pardon  in  black  and 
white,  which  everybody  admired  the  more,  because  no  one 
could  read  a  word  of  it.  The  Squire  himself  acknowledged 
cheerfully  that  he  would  sooner  take  fifty  purses  than  read 
a  single  line  of  it.  Some  people  indeed  went  so  far  as  to 
say  that  the  parchment  was  made  from  a  sheep  Tom  had 
stolen,  and  that  was  why  it  prevaricated  so  in  giving  him  a 
character.  But  I,  knowing  something  by  this  time  of 
lawyers,  was  able  to  contradict  them;  affirming  that  the 
wolf  had  more  than  the  sheep  to  do  with  this  matter. 

For,  according  to  our  old  saying,  the  three  learned  pro- 
fessions live  by  roguery  on  the  three  parts  of  a  man.  The 
doctor  mauls  our  bodies;  the  parson  starves  our  souls;  but 
the  lawyer  must  be  the  adroitest  knave,  for  he  has  to  en- 
snare our  minds.  Therefore  he  takes  a  careful  delight  in 
covering  his  traps  and  engines  with  a  spread  of  dead-leaf 
words,  whereof  himself  knows  little  more  than  half  the  way 
to  spell  them. 

But  now  Tom  Faggus,  although  having  wit  to  gallop 
away  on  his  strawberry  mare,  with  the  speed  of  terror, 
from  lawyers  (having  paid  them  with  money  too  honest  to 
«top),  yet  fell  into  a  reckless  adventure  ere  ever  he  camo 


A  TROUBLED  STATE  AND  A  FOOLISH  JOKE.       321 

home,  from  which  any  lawyer  would  have  saved  him, 
although  he  ought  to  have  needed  none  beyond  common 
thought  for  dear  Annie.  Now  I  am,  and  ever  have  been, 
so  vexed  about  this  story  that  I  catinot  tell  it  pleasantly  (as 
I  try  to  write  in  general)  in  my  own  words  and  manner. 
Therefore  I  will  let  John  Fry  (whom  I  have  robbed  of 
another  story,  to  which  he  was  more  entitled,  and  whom  I 
have  robbed  of  many  speeches — which  he  thought  very 
excellent — lest  I  should  grieve  any  one  with  his  lack  of 
education — the  last  lack  he  ever  felt,  by-the-by),  now,  with 
your  good  leave,  I  will  allow  poor  John  to  tell  this  tale  in 
his  own  words  and  style;  which  he  has  a  perfect  right  to 
do,  having  been  the  first  to  tell  us.  For  Squire  Faggus  kept  it 
close,  not  trusting  even  Annie  with  it  (or  at  least  she  said 
so);  because  no  man  knows  much  of  his  sweatheart's 
tongue  until  she  has  borne  him  a  child  or  two. 

Only  before  John  begins  his  story,  this  I  would  say,  in 
duty  to  him,  and  in  common  honesty,  that  I  dare  not 
write  down  some  few  of  his  words,  because  they  are  not 
convenient,  for  dialect  or  other  causes;  and  that  I  cannot 
find  any  way  of  spelling  many  of  the  words  which  I  do 
repeat,  so  that  people  not  born  on  Exmoor  may  know  how 
he  pronounced  them;  even  if  they  could  bring  their  lips 
and  their  legs  to  the  proper  attitude.  And  in  this  I  speak 
advisedly;  having  observed  some  thousand  times  that  the 
manner  a  man  has  of  spreading  his  legs,  and  bending  his 
knees,  or  stiffening,  and  even  the  way  he  will  set  his  heel, 
make  all  the  difference  in  his  tone,  and  time  of  casting  his 
voice  aright,  and  power  of  coming  home  to  you. 

We  always  liked  John's  stories,  not  for  any  wit  in  them, 
but  because  we  laughed  at  the  man  rather  than  the  matter. 
The  way  he  held  his  head  was  enough,  with  his  chin  fixed 
hard  like  a  certainty  (especially  during  his  biggest  lie),  not 
a  sign  of  a  smile  in  nis  lips  or  nose,  but  a  power  of  not 
laughing;  and  his  eyes  not  turning  to  anybody,  unless  some- 
body had  too  much  of  it  (as  young  girls  always  will),  and 
went  over  the  brink  of  laughter.  Thereupon  it  was  good 
to  see  John  Fry;  how  he  looked  gravely  first  at  the  laugher, 
as  much  as  to  ask,  '*  What  is  it  now?"  then,  if  the  fool 
went  laughing  more,  as  he  or  she  was  bound  to  do  upon  that 
dry  inquiry,  John  would  look  again,  to  be  sure  of  it,  and 
then  at  somebody  else  to  learn  whether  the  laugh  had  com- 


322  LOUNA  BOONE, 

pany;  then,  if  he  got  another  grin,  all  his  mirth  came  out 
in  glory  with  a  sudden  break,  and  he  wiped  his  lips,  and 
was  grave  again. 

Now  John,  being  too  much  encouraged  by  the  girls  (of 
which  I  could  never  break  them),  came  into  the  house  that 
December  evening,  with  every  inch  of  him  full  of  a  tale. 
Annie  saw  it,  and  Lizzie  of  course;  and  even  I,  in  the 
gloom  of  great  evils,  perceived  that  John  was  a  loaded 
gun;  but  I  did  not  care  to  explode  him.  Now  nothing 
primed  him  so  hotly  as  this;  if  you  wanted  to  hear  all 
John  Fry  had  heard,  the  surest  of  all  sure  ways  to  it  was 
to  pretend  not  to  care  for  a  word  of  it. 

'^Iwor  over  to  Exeford  in  the  marning,"  John  began 
from  the  chimney  corner,  looking  straight  at  Annie,  **for 
to  zee  a  little  calve,  Jan,  as  us  cuddn't  get  thee  to  lave 
houze  about.  Meesus  have  got  a  quare  vancy  vor  un,  from 
wutt  her  have  heer^d  of  the  brade.  Now  zit  quite,  wull  e'. 
Miss  Luzzie,  or  a'  'wunt  goo  on  no  vurder.  Vaine  little 
tayl  I'll  tuU  'ee,  if  so  be  thee  zits  quite.  Wull,  as  I  coom 
down  the  hill,  I  zeed  a  saight  of  volks  a-stapping  of  the 
ro-udwai.  Arl  on  'em  wi'  girt  goons,  or  two  men  out  of 
dree  wi'  em.  Rackon  there  wor  dree-score  on  'em,  tak 
smarl  and  beg  togather  laike;  latt  aloun  the  women  and 
chillers;  zum  on  'em  wi'  matches  blowing,  tothers  wi' flint- 
lacks.  'Wutt  be  up  now?'  I  says  to  Bill  Blacksmith,  as 
had  knowledge  of  me;  'be  the  Kinga-coomin?  If  her  be, 
do  'ee  want  to  shutt  'un?' 

*'  *  Thee  not  knaw?"  says  Bill  Blacksmith,  just  the  zame 
as  I  be  a-tullin  of  it:  '  whai  man,  us  expex  Tarn  Faggus, 
and  zum  on  us  manes  to  shutt  'un.' 

"  'Shutt  'un  wi'out  a  warrant!'  says  I:  'sure  'ee  knawa 
better  nor  thic.  Bill!  A  man  mayn't  shutt  to  another  man, 
wi'out  have  a  warrant.  Bill.  Warship  zed  so,  last  taime  I 
zeed  un,  and  nothing  to  the  contrairy.' 

"  '  Haw,  haw!  Never  front  about  that,'  saith  Bill,  zame 
as  I  be  tullin  you :  '  us  has  warrants  and  warships  enow, 
dree  or  vour  on  'em.  And  more  nor  a  dizzen  warranties, 
fro'ut   I  know   to   contrairy.     Shutt  'un,  us  manes;  and 

shutt  'un,  us  will '     Wlmi,  Miss  Annie,  good   Lord, 

whuttiver  makes  'ee  stear  so?" 

"  Nothing  at  all,  John,"  our  Annie  answered;  "  only  the 
horrible  ferocity  of  that  mise^-able  blacksmith." 


A  TROUBLED  STATE  AND  A  FOOLISH  JOKE,        323 

"That  be  nayther  here  nor  there,"  John  coutinued, 
with  some  wrath  at  his  own  interruption:  **  Blacksmith 
knawed  whutt  the  Squire  had  been;  and  veared  to  lose  his 
own  custom,  if  Squire  tuk  to  shooin'  again.  Shutt  any 
man  I  would  myzell  as  intervared  wi'  my  trade  laike. 
'Lucky  for  thee/  said  Bill  Blacksmith,  'as  thee  bee'st  so 
shart  and  fat,  Jan.  Dree  on  us  wor  agooin'  to  shutt  'ee, 
till  us  zeed  how  fat  thee  waz,  Jan.' 

"  *  Lor  now.  Bill!  "  I  answered  'un,  wi*  a  girt  cold  swat 
upon  me:  '  shutt  me,  Bill;  and  my  own  waife  niver  drame 
of  it!'" 

Here  John  Fry  looked  round  the  kitchen;  for  he  had 
never  said  anything  of  the  kind,  I  doubt;  but  now  made  it 
part  of  his  discourse,  from  thinking  that  Mistress  Fry  was 
come,  as  she  generally  did,  to  fetch  him. 

*' Wull  done  then,  Jan  Vr}^"  said  the  woman,  who  had 
entered  quietly,  but  was  only  our  old  Molly.  "  Wutt  hand- 
some manners  thee  hast  gat,  Jan,  to  spake  so  well  of  thy 
waife  laike;  after  arl  the  laife  she  lades  thee!" 

"  Putt  thee  pot  on  the  fire,  old  'ooman,  and  bile  thee 
own  bakkon,"  John  answered  her,  very  sharply:  '*  nobody 
no  raight  to  meddle  wi'  a  man's  bad  'ooman  but  himzell. 
"Wull,  here  was  all  these  here  men  a- waiting  zum  wi'  harses, 
zum  wi'out;  the  common  volk  wi'  long  girt  guns,  and 
the  quarlity  wi' girt  broadswords.  Who  wor  there?  Whay, 
latt  me  zee.  There  wor  Squaire  Maunder,"  here  John 
assumed  his  full  historical  key,  "  him  wi'  the  pot  to  his 
vittle-place;  and  Sir  Richard  Blewitt  shaking  over  the 
zaddle,  and  Squaire  Sanford  of  Lee,  him  wi'  the  long  nose 
and  one  eye,  and  Sir  Gronus  Batchildor  over  to  Ninehead 
Court,  and  ever  so  many  more  on  'em,  tulling  us  how  they 
was  arl  gooin'  to  be  promoted  for  kitching  of  Tom  Fag- 
gus. 

'*'Hope  to  God,'  says  I  to  myzell,  'poor  Tom  wun't 
coom  here  to-day:  arl  up  with  her,  if  'a  doeth:  and  who 
be  there  to  suckzade  'un?'  Mark  me  now,  all  these  charps 
was  good  to  shutt  'un,  as  her  coom  crass  the  watter;  the 
watter  be  waide  enow  there  and  stony,  but  no  deeper  than 
my  knee-place." 

"'' '  Thee  cas'n  goo  no  vurder,'  Bill  Blacksmith  saith  to 
me:  'nawbody  'lowed  to  crass  the  vord  until  such  time  as 
Faggus  coom;  praise  God,  us  may  mak  sure  of  'un.' 


324  LORNA  BOONE. 

***Amen,  zo  be  it/  says  I;  'God  knowth  I  be  never  in 
any  hurry,  and  would  zooner  stop  nor  goo  on,  most 
taimes/ 

''  Wi  that  I  pulled  my  vittles  out,  and  zat  a  horse-barck, 
atin'  of  'em,  and  oncommon  good  they  was.  '  Won't  us 
have  'un  this  taime  just,'  saith  Tim  Potter,  as  keepeth  the 
bull  there;  'and  yet  I  be  zorry  for  'un.  But  a  man  must 
kape  the  law,  her  must;  zo  be  her  can  only  larn  it.  And 
now  poor  Tom  will  swing  as  high  as  the  tops  of  they  girt 
hashes  there.' 

*'  'Just  thee  kitch  'un  virst,'  says  I;  'maisure  rope,  wi' 
the  body  to  maisure  by." 

"  'Hurra!  here  be  another  now,'  saith  Bill  Blacksmith, 
grinning;  'another  coom  to  help  us.  AVhat  a  grave  gentle- 
man!   A  warship  of  the  pace,  at  laste!" 

"For  a  gentleman,  on  a  cue-ball  horse,  was  coming 
slowly  down  the  hill  on  tother  zide  of  watter,  looking  at 
us  in  a  friendly  way,  and  with  a  long  papper  standing  forth 
the  lining  of  his  coat  laike.  Horse  stapped  to  drink  in  the 
watter,  and  gentleman  spak  to  'un  kindly,  and  then  they 
coom  raight  on  to  ussen,  and  the  gentleman's  face  wor  so 
long  and  so  grave,  us  veared  'a  wor  gooin'  to  prache  to 
us. 

"  '  Coort  o'  King's  Bench,' saith  one  man;  '  Checker  and 
Plays,'  saith  another;  '  Spishal  Oommision,  I  doubt,'  saith 
Bill  Blacksmith;  'backed  by  the  Mayor  of  Taunton.' 

"  '  Any  Justice  of  the  King's  Peace,  good  people,  to  be 
found  near  here?'  said  the  gentleman,  lifting  his  hat  to  us, 
and  very  gracious  in  his  manner. 

" '  Your  honor,'  saith  Bill,  with  his  hat  off  his  head, '  there 
be  sax  or  zeven  warships  here,  arl  on  'em  very  wise  uns. 
Squaire  Maunder  there  be  the  zinnyer.' 

"  So  the  gentleman  rode  up  to  Squire  Maunder,  and 
raised  his  cocked  hat  in  a  manner  that  took  the  Squire  out 
of  countenance,  for  he  could  not  do  the  like  of  it. 

"'Sir,'  said  he,  'good  and  worshipful  sir,  I  am  here  to 
claim  your  good  advice  and  valor,  for  purposes  of  justice. 
I  hold  His  Majesty's  commission  to  make  to  cease  a  noto- 
rious rogue  whose  name  is  Thomas  Faggus.'  With  that 
he  offered  his  commission;  but  Squire  Maunder  told  the 
truth,  that  he  could  not  rade  even  words  in  print,  much 


A  TROUBLED  STATE  AND  A  FOOLISH  JOKE.       325 

less  written  karakters.*  Then  the  other  magistrates  rode 
up,  and  put  their  heads  together,  how  to  meet  the  London 
gentleman  without  loss  of  importance.  There  wor  one  of 
^em  as  could  rade  purty  vair,  and  her  made  out  King's 
mark  upon  it:  and  he  bowed  upon  his  horse  to  the  gentle- 
man, and  he  laid  his  hand  on  his  heart  and  said,  '  Wor- 
shipful sir,  we,  as  has  the  honor  of  His  Gracious  Majesty's 
commission,  are  entirely  at  your  service,  and  crave  instruc- 
tions from  you/ 

"  Then  a  waving  of  hats  began,  and  a  bowing,  and  mak- 
ing of  legs  to  wan  anather,  sich  as  nayver  wor  zeed  afor; 
but  none  of  'em  arl,  for  air  and  brading,  cud  coom  anaigh 
the  gentleman  with  a  long  grave  face. 

**  *  Your  warships  have  posted  the  men  right  well,'  saith 
he,  with  anather  bow  all  round;  'surely  that  big  rogue 
will  have  no  chance  left  among  so  many  valiant  muske- 
teers. Ha!  what  see  I  there,  my  friend?  Rust  in  the  pan 
of  your  gun!  That  gun  would  never  go  off,  sure  as  I  am 
the  King's  Commissioner.  And  I  see  another  just  as  bad; 
and  lo,  there's  the  third!  Pardon  me,  gentlemen,  I  have 
been  so  used  to  His  Majesty's  Ordnance-yards.  But  I  fear 
that  bold  rogue  would  ride  through  all  of  you,  and  laugh 
at  your  worships'  beards,  by  George.' 

"'But  what  shall  us  do?'  Squire  Maunder  asked;  'I 
vear  there  be  no  oil  here.' 

" '  Discharge  your  pieces,  gentlemen,  and  let  the  men 
do  the  same;  or  at  least  let  us  try  to  discharge  them,  and 
load  again  with  fresh  powder.  It  is  the  fog  of  the  morn- 
ing hath  spoiled  the  priming.  That  rogue  is  not  in  sight 
yet:  but  God  knows  we  must  not  be  asleep  with  him,  or 
what  will  His  Majesty  say  to  me,  if  we  let  him  slip  once 
more?' 

" '  Excellent,  wondrous  well  said,  good  sir,'  Squire 
Maunder  answered  him;  'I  never  should  have  thought  of 
that  now.  Bill  Blacksmith,  tell  all  the  men  to  be  ready  to 
shoot  up  into  the  air,  directly  I  give  the  word.  Now,  are 
you  ready  there.  Bill?' 

*  Lest  I  seem  to  underrate  the  erudition  of  Devonshire  magis- 
trates, I  venture  to  offer  copy  of  a  letter  from  a  Justice  of  the  Peace 
to  his  bookseller,  circa  1810  A.  d.,  now  in  my  possession: 

"  Sur, 
plez  to  zen  me  the  aks  relatting  to  A-gustuspaks. " — Ed. 


326  LORNA  DOONE. 

'^'All  ready,  your  worship/ saifch  Bill,  saluting  like  a 
soldier. 

"  ^Then,  one,  two,  dree,  and  shutt!'  cries  Squire  Maun- 
der, standing  up  in  the  irons  of  his  stirrups. 

*'  Thereupon  they  all  blazed  out,  and  the  noise  of  it 
went  all  round  the  hills,  with  a  girt  thick  cloud  arising, 
and  all  the  air  smelling  of  powder.  Before  the  cloud  was 
gone  so  much  as  ten  yards  on  the  wind,  the  gentleman  on 
the  cue-bald  horse  shuts  up  his  face  like  a  pair  of  nut- 
cracks,  as  wide  as  it  was  long  before,  and  out  he  pulls  two 
girt  pistols  longside  of  zaddle,  and  clap'th  one  to  Squire 
Maunder's  head,  and  tother  to  Sir  Richard  Blewitt's. 

*' '  Hand  forth  your  money  and  all  your  warrants,'  he 
saith,  like  a  clap  of  thunder;  *  gentlemen,  have  you  now 
the  wit  to  apprehend  Tom  Faggus?' 

"Squire  Maunder  swore  so  that  he  ought  to  be  fined; 
but  he  pulled  out  his  purse  none  the  slower  for  that,  and 
so  did  Sir  Richard  Blewitt. 

"  '  First  man  I  see  go  to  load  a  gun,  Pll  gi'e  'un  a  bullet 
to  do  it  with,'  said  Tom;  for  you  see  it  was  him  and  no 
other,  looking  quietly  round  upon  all  of  them.  Then  he 
robbed  all  the  rest  of  their  warships,  as  pleasant  as  might 
he;  and  he  saith,  'Now,  gentlemen,  do  your  duty;  serve 
your  warrants  afore  you  imprison  me:'  with  that  he  made 
them  give  up  all  the  warrants,  and  he  stuck  them  in  the 
band  of  his  hat,  and  then  he  made  a  bow  with  it. 

" '  Good-morning  to  your  warships  now,  and  a  merry 
Christmas  all  of  you!  And  the  merrier  both  for  rich  and 
poor,  when  gentlemen  see  their  almsgiving.  Lest  you 
deny  yourselves  the  pleasure,  I  will  aid  your  warships. 
And  to  save  you  the  trouble  of  following  me,  when  your 
guns  be  loaded — this  is  my  strawberry  mare,  gentlemen, 
only  with  a  little  cream  on  her.  Gentlemen  all,  in  the 
name  of  the  King,  I  thank  you." 

'^  All  this  while  he  was  casting  their  money  among  the 
poor  folk  by  the  handful;  and  then  he  spak  kaindly  to  the 
red  mare,  and  wor  over  the  back  of  the  hill  in  two  seconds, 
and  best  part  of  two  maile  away,  I  reckon,  afore  ever  a 
gun  wor  loaded."* 

*The  truth  of  this  story  is  well  established  by  first-rate  tradition. 


TWO  FOOLS  TOGETHER,  327 


CHAPTER  XL. 

TWO   FOOLS  TOGETHER. 

That  story  of  John  Fry's,  instead  of  causing  any 
amusement,  gave  us  great  disquietude;  not  only  because  it 
showed  that  Tom  Faggus  could  not  resist  sudden  tempta- 
tion and  the  delight  of  wildness,  but  also  that  we  greatly 
feared  lest  the  King's  pardon  might  be  annulled,  and  all 
his  kindness  canceled,  by  a  reckless  deed  of  that  sort. 
It  was  true  (as  Annie  insisted  continually,  even  with  tears, 
to  wear  in  her  arguments)  that  Tom  had  not  brought  away 
anything  except  the  warrants,  which  were  of  no  use  at  all, 
after  receipt  of  the  pardon;  neither  had  he  used  any  vio- 
lence except  just  to  frighten  people;  but  could  it  be  estab- 
lished, even  toward  Christmas-time,  that  Tom  had  a  right 
to  give  alms,  right  and  left,  out  of  other  people's  money? 

Dear  Annie  appeared  to  believe  that  it  could;  saying 
that  if  the  rich  continually  chose  to  forget  the  poor,  a  man 
who  forced  them  to  remember,  and  so  to  do  good  to  them- 
selves and  to  others,  was  a  public  benefactor,  and  entitled 
to  every  blessing.  But  I  knew,  and  so  Lizzie  knew — John 
Fry  being  now  ought  of  hearing — that  this  was  not  sound 
argument.  For  if  it  came  to  that,  any  man  might  take 
the  King  by  the  throat,  and  make  him  cast  away  among 
the  poor  the  money  which  he  wanted  sadly  for  Her  Grace 
the  Duchess,  and  the  beautiful  Countess  of  this  and  of 
that.  Lizzie,  of  course,  knew  nothing  about  His  Majesty's 
diversions,  which  were  not  fit  for  a  young  maid's  thoughts; 
but  I  now  put  the  form  of  the  argument  as  it  occurred  to 
me. 

Therefore  I  said,  once  for  all  (and  both  my  sisters  always 
listened  when  I  used  the  deep  voice  from  my  chest) : 

*'Tom  Faggus  hath  done  wrong  herein;  wrong  to  him- 
self aiid  to  our  Annie.  All  he  need  have  done  was  to  show 
his  pardon,  and  the  magistrates  would  have  rejoiced  with 


328  LORNA  DOONE, 

him.  He  might  have  led  a  most  godly  life,  and  have  been 
respected  by  everybody;  and  knowing  how  brave  Tom  is,  I 
thought  that  he  would  have  done  as  much.  Now,  if  I 
were  in  love  with  a  maid  " — I  put  it  thus  for  the  sake  of 
poor  Lizzie — *'  never  would  I  so  imperil  my  life,  and  her 
fortune  in  life  along  with  me,  for  the  sake  of  a  poor  diver- 
sion. A  man's  first  duty  is  to  the  women,  who  are  forced 
to  hang  upon  him " 

*^0h,  John,  not  that  horrible  word!"  cried  Annie,  to 
my  great  surprise,  and  serious  interruption;  '^oh,  John, 
any  word  but  that!"     And  she  burst  forth  crying  terribly. 

**  What  word,  Lizzie?  What  does  the  wench  mean?"  I 
asked,  in  the  saddest  vexation;  seeing  no  good  to  ask  Annie 
at  all,  for  she  carried  on  most  dreadfully. 

"  Don't  you  know,  you  stupid  lout?"  said  Lizzie,  com- 
pleting my  wonderment,  by  the  scorn  of  her  quicker  in- 
telligence: ''if  you  don't  know,  axe  about?" 

And  with  that  I  was  forced  to  be  content;  for  Lizzie  took 
Annie  in  such  a  manner  (on  purpose  to  vex  me,  as  I  could 
see)  with  her  head  drooping  down,  and  her  hair  coming 
over,  and  tears  and  sobs  rising  and  falling  to  boot,  without 
either  order  or  reason,  that  seeing  no  good  for  a  man  to  do 
(since  neither  of  them  was  Lorna),  I  even  went  out  into 
the  court-yard  and  smoked  a  pipe,  and  wondered  what  on 
earth  is  the  meaning  of  women. 

Now  in  this  I  was  wrong  and  unreasonable  (as  all  women 
will  acknowledge);  but  sometimes  a  man  is  so  put  out,  by 
the  way  they  take  on  about  nothing,  that  he  really  cannot 
help  thinking,  for  at  least  a  minute,  that  women  are  a  mis- 
take forever,  and  hence  are  forever  mistaken.  Neverthe- 
less I  could  not  see  that  any  of  these  great  thoughts  and 
ideas  applied  at  all  to  my  Lorna,  but  that  she  was  a  differ- 
ent being;  not  woman  enough  to  do  anything  bad,  yet 
enough  of  a  woman  for  man  to  adore. 

And  now  a  thing  came  to  pass  which  tested  my  adoration 
pretty  sharply,  inasmuch  as  I  would  far  liefer  have  faced 
Carver  Doone  and  his  father,  nay,  even  the  roaring  lion 
himself,  with  his  hoofs  and  flaming  nostrils,  than  liave  met 
in  cold  blood  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  the  founder  of  all  the 
colony,  and  the  fear  of  the  very  fiercest. 

But  that  I  was  forced  to  do  at  this  time,  and  in  the 
manner  following.     When  I  went  up  one  morning  to  look 


TWO  FOOLS  200ETHER.  329 

for  my  seven  rooks'  nests,  behold  there  were  but  six  to  be 
seen;  for  the  topmost  of  them  all  was  gone,  and  the  most 
conspicuous.  I  looked,  and  looked,  and  rubbed  my  eyes, 
and  turned  to  try  them  by  other  sights;  and  then  I  looked 
again;  yes,  there  could  be  no  doubt  about  it;  the  signal 
was  made  for  me  to  come,  because  my  love  was  in  danger. 
For  me  to  enter  the  valley  now  during  the  broad  daylight 
could  have  brought  no  comfort,  but  only  harm  to  the 
maiden,  and  certain  death  to  myself.  Yet  it  was  more 
than  I  could  do  keep  altogether  at  distance;  therefore  I 
ran  to  the  nearest  place  where  I  could  remain  unseen,  and 
watched  the  glen  from  the  wooded  height,  for  hours  and 
hours,  impatiently. 

However,  no  impatience  of  mine  made  any  difference  in 
the  scene  upon  which  I  was. gazing.  In  the  part  of  the 
valley  which  I  could  see  there  was  nothing  moving  except 
the  water,  and  a  few  stolen  cows  going  sadly  along,  as  if 
knowing  that  they  had  no  honest  right  there.  It  sunk 
very  heavily  into  my  heart,  with  all  the  beds  of  dead  leaves 
around  it,  and  there  was  nothing  I  cared  to  do  except  blow 
on  my  fingers,  and  long  for  more  wit. 

For  a  frost  was  beginning,  which  made  a  great  difference 
to  Lorna  and  to  myself,  I  trow,  as  well  as  to  all  the  five 
million  people  who  dwell  in  this  island  of  England;  such  a 
frost  as  never  I  saw  before,*  neither  hope  ever  to  see 
again;  a  time  when  it  was  impossible  to  milk  a  cow  for 
icicles,  or  for  a  man  to  shave  some  of  his  beard  (as  I  liked 
to  do  for  Lorna's  sake,  because  she  was  so  smooth)  without 
blunting  his  razor  on  hard  gray  ice.  No  man  could  "keep 
yatt"  (as  we  say),  even  though  he  abandoned  his  work 
altogether,  and  thumped  himself,  all  on  the  chest  and  the 
front,  till  his  frozen  hands  would  have  been  bleeding;  ex- 
cept for  the  cold  that  kept  still  all  his  veins. 

However,  at  present  there  was  no  frost,  although  for  a 
fortnight  threatening;  and  I  was  too  young  to  know  the 
meaning  of  the  way  the  dead  leaves  hung,  and  the  worm- 
casts  prickling  like  women's  combs,  and  the  leaden  tone 

*  If  John  Ridd  lived  until  the  year  1740  (as  so  strong  a  man  was 
bound  to  do),  he  must  have  seen  almost  a  harder  frost;  perhaps  it  put 
an  end  to  him,  for  then  he  would  be  some  fourscore  years  old.  But 
tradition  makes  him  "  keep  yatt,"  as  he  says,  up  to  fivescore 
years,— Ed. 


330  LOHNA  BOONE. 

upon  everything,  and  the  dead  weight  of  the  sky.  Will 
Watcombe,  the  old  man  at  Lynmouth,  who  had  been  half 
over  the  world  almost,  and  who  talked  so  much  of  the  Gulf 
Stream,  had  (as  I  afterward  called  to  mind)  foretold  a  very 
bitter  winter  this  year.  But  no  one  would  listen  to  him, 
because  there  were  not  so  many  hips  and  haws  as  usual ; 
whereas  we  have  all  learned  from  our  grandfathers  that 
Providence  never  sends  very  hard  winters  without  having 
furnished  a  large  supply  of  berries  for  the  birds  to  feed 
upon. 

It  was  lucky  for  me,  while  I  waited  here,  that  our  very 
best  sheep-dog,  old  Watch,  had  chosen  to  accompany  me 
that  day.  For  otherwise  I  must  have  had  no  dinner,  being 
unpersuaded,  even  by  that,  to  quit  my  survey  of  the  valley. 
However,  by  aid  of  poor  Watcn,  I  contrived  to  obtain  a 
supply  of  food;  for  I  sent  him  home  with  a  note  to  Annie 
fastened  upon  his  chest;  and  in  less  than  an  hour  back  he 
came,  proud  enough  to  wag  his  tail  off,  with  his  tongue 
hanging  out,  from  the  speed  of  his  journey,  and  a  large 
lump  of  bread  and  of  bacon  fastened  in  a  napkin  around  his 
neck.  I  had  not  told  my  sister,  of  course,  what  was  toward ; 
for  why  should  I  make  her  anxious? 

When  it  grew  toward  dark,  I  was  just  beginning  to  pre- 
pare for  my  circuit  around  the  hills,  but  suddenly  Watch 
gave  a  long  low  growl;  I  kept  myself  close  as  possible,  and 
ordered  the  dog  to  be  silent,  and  presently  saw  a  short 
figure  approaching  from  a  thickly  wooded  hollow  on  the  left 
side  of  my  hiding  place.  It  was  the  same  figure  I  had 
seen  once  before  in  the  moonlight  at  Plovers  Barrows, 
and  proved  to  my  great  delight  to  be  the  little  maid 
Gwenny  Carfax.  She  started  a  moment  at  seeing  me,  but 
more  with  surprise  than  fear;  and  then  she  laid  both  her 
hands  upon  mine,  as  if  she  had  known  me  for  twenty 
years. 

"Young  man,"  she  said,  "you  must  come  with  me.  I 
was  gwain'  all  the  way  to  fetch  thee.  Old  man  be  dying; 
and  her  can't  die,  or  at  least  her  won't,  without  first  con- 
sidering thee." 

"  Considering  me !"  I  cried :  "  what  can  Sir  Ensor  Doone 
want  with  considering  me?  Has  Mistress  Lorna  told 
him?" 

*' AD  concerning  thee,  and  thy  doings;  when  she knowed 


TWO  FOOLS  TOGETHER.  331 

the  old  man  were  so  near  liis  end.  That  vexed  he  was 
about  thy  low  blood,  although  her  would  come  to  life 
again,  on  purpose  for  to  bate  ^ee.  But  after  all,  there 
can't  be  scarcely  such  bad  luck  as  that.  Now,  if  her 
strook  thee,  thou  must  take  it;  there  be  no  denaying  of  un. 
Fire  I  have  seen  afore,  hot  and  red,  and  raging;  but  I 
never  seen  cold  fire  afore,  and  it  maketh  me  burn  and 
shiver. '' 

And  in  truth  it  made  me  both  burn  and  shiver  to  know 
that  I  must  either  go  straight  to  the  presence  of  Sir  Ensor 
Doone,  or  give  up  Lorna  once  for  all,  and  rightly  be  de- 
spised by  her.  For  the  first  time  of  my  life  I  thought  that 
she  had  not  acted  fairly.  Why  not  leave  the  old  man  in 
peace,  without  vexing  him  about  my  affairs.'*  But  pres- 
ently I  saw  again  that  in  this  matter  she  was  right;  that 
she  could  not  receive  the  old  man's  blessing  (supposing 
that  he  had  one  to  give,  which  even  a  worse  man  might 
suppose)  while  she  deceived  him  about  herself,  and  the  life 
she  had  undertaken. 

Therefore,  with  great  misgivings  of  myself,  but  no  ill 
thought  of  my  darling,  I  sent  Watch  home,  and  followed 
Gwenny;  who  led.  me  along  very  rapidly,  with  her  short 
broad  form  gliding  down  the  hollow  from  which  she  had 
first  appeared.  Here  at  the  bottom  she  entered  a  thicket 
of  gray  ash  stubs  and  black  holly,  with  rocks  around  it 
gnarled  with  roots,  and  hung  with  masks  of  ivy.  Here  in 
a  dark  and  lonely  corner,  with  a  pixie  ring  before  it,  she 
came  to  a  narrow  door,  very  brown  and  solid,  looking  like 
a  trunk  of  wood  at  a  little  distance.  This  she  opened 
without  a  key,  by  stooping  down  and  pressing  it  where  the 
threshold  met  the  jamb;  and  then  she  ran  in  very 
nimbly,  but  I  was  forced  to  be  bent  in  two,  and  even 
so  without  comfort.  The  passage  was  close  and  dif- 
ficult, and  as  dark  as  any  black  pitch;  but  it  was  not  loag 
(be  it  as  it  might),  and  in  that  there  was  some  comfo.v. 
We  came  out  soon  at  the  other  end,  and  were  at  the  top  oi^ 
the  Doone  valley.  In  the  chilly  dusk  air  it  looked  almos.. 
nntempting,  especially  during  that  state  of  mind  undei 
which  I  was  laboring.  As  we  crossed  toward  the  Captain'^ 
house,  we  met  a  couple  of  great  Doones  lounging  by  the 
water-side.  Gwenny  said  something  to  them;  and  although 
they  stared  very  hard  at  me,  they  let  me  pass  without  hin- 


332  LOttl^A  JDOOm. 

derance.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  when  the  little 
maid  opened  Sir  Ensor's  door,  my  heart  thumped  quite  as 
much  with  terror  as  with  hope  of  Lorna's  presence. 

But  in  a  moment  the  fear  was  gone,  for  Lorna  was  trem- 
bling in  my  arms,  and  my  courage  rose  to  comfort  her.  The 
darling  feared,  beyond  all  things  else,  lest  I  should  be 
offended  with  her  for  what  she  had  said  to  her  grandfather, 
and  for  dragging  me  into  his  presence;  but  I  told  her 
almost  a  falsehood  (the  first  and  last  that  I  ever  did  tell 
her),  to-wit,  that  I  cared  not  that  much — and  showed  her  the 
tip  of  my  thumb  as  I  said  it — for  old  Sir  Ensor  and  all  his 
wrath,  so  long  as  I  had  his  granddaughter's  love. 

Now  I  tried  to  think  this  as  I  said  it,  so  as  to  save  it 
from  being  a  lie;  but  somehow  or  other  it  did  not  answer, 
and  I  was  vexed  with  myself  both  ways.  But  Lorna  took 
me  by  the  hand  as  bravely  as  she  could,  and  led  me  into 
a  little  passage  where  1  could  hear  the  river  moaning  and 
the  branches  rustling. 

Here  I  passed  as  long  a  minute  as  fear  ever  cheated  time 
of,  saying  to  myself  continually  that  there  was  nothing  to 
be  frightened  at,  yet  growing  more  and  more  afraid  by 
reason  of  so  reasoning.  At  last  my  Lorna  came  back  very 
pale,  as  I  saw  by  the  candle  she  carried,  and  whis- 
pered, "Now  be  patient,  dearest.  Never  mind  what  he 
says  to  you ;  neither  attempt  to  answer  him.  Look  at 
him  gently  and  steadfastly,  and,  if  you  can,  with  some 
show  of  reverence;  but  above  all  things,  no  compassion;  it 
drives  him  almost  mad.     Now  come;  walk  very  quietly." 

She  led  me  into  a  cold  dark  room,  rough  and  very 
gloomy,  although  with  two  candles  burning.  I  took  little 
heed  of  the  things  in  it,  though  I  marked  that  the  window 
was  open.  That  which  I  heeded  was  an  old  man,  very 
stern  and  comely,  with  death  upon  his  countenance;  yet 
not  lying  in  his  bed,  but  sitting  upright  in  a  chair,  with  a 
loose  red  cloak  thrown  over  him.  Upon  this  his  white 
hair  fell,  and  his  pallid  fingers  lay  in  a  ghastly  fashion 
without  a  sign  of  life  or  movement,  or  of  the  power  *;hat 
kept  him  up;  all  rigid,  calm  and  relentless.  Only  in  his 
great  black  eyes,  fixed  upon  me  solemnly,  all  the  power  of 
his  body  dwelt,  all  the  life  of  his  soul  was  burning. 

I  could  not  look  at  him  very  nicely,  being  afraid  of  the 
death  in  his  face,  and  most  afraid  to  show  it.     And  to  tell 


TWO  FOOLS  tOOETHER.  333 

the  truth,  my  poor  blue  eyes  fell  away  from  the  blackness 
of  his,  as  if  it  had  been  my  coffin-plate.  Therefore  I 
made  a  low  obeisance,  and  tried  not  to  shiver.  Only  I 
groaned  that  Lorna  thought  it  good  manners  to  leave  ua 
two  together. 

"Ah!"  said  the  old  man,  and  his  voice  seemed  to  come 
from  a  cavern  of  skeletons;  "are  you  that  great  John 
Riddr 

"John  Ridd  is  my  name,  your  honor,"  was  all  that  I 
could  answer;  "and  I  hope  your  worship  is  better." 

"  Child,  have  you  sense  enough  to  know  what  you  have 
been  doing?" 

"Yes,  I  know  right  well,"  I  answered,  "that  I  have 
set  mine  eyes  far  above  my  rank." 

"Are  you  ignorant  that  Lorna  Doone  is  born  of  the 
oldest  families  remaining  in  North  Europe?" 

"  I  was  ignorant  of  that,  your  worship;  yet  I  knew  of 
her  high  descent  from  the  Doones  of  Bag  worthy." 

The  old  man's  eyes,  like  fire,  probed  me  whether  I  was 
jesting;  then  perceiving  how  grave  I  was,  and  thinking 
that  I  could  not  laugh  (as  many  people  suppose  of  me),  he 
took  on  himself  to  make  good  the  deficiency  with  a  very 
bitter  smile. 

"And  know  you  of  your  own  low  descent  from  the 
Ridds,  of  Oare?" 

"  Sir,"  I  answered,  being  as  yet  unaccustomed  to  this 
style  of  speech,  "the  Ridds,  of  Oare,  have  been  honest 
men  twice  as  long  as  the  Doones  have  been  rogues." 

"  I  would  not  answer  for  that,  John,"  Sir  Ensor  replied, 
very  quietly,  when  I  expected  fury.  "If  it  be  so,  thy 
family  is  the  very  oldest  in  Europe.  Now  hearken  to  me, 
boy,  or  clown,  or  honest  fool,  or  whatever  thou  art;  hearken 
to  an  old  man's  words,  who  has  not  many  hours  to  live. 
There  is  nothing  in  this  world  to  fear,  nothing  to  revere 
or  trust,  nothing  even  to  hope  for;  least  of  all,  is  there 
aught  to  love." 

"I  hope  your  worship  is  not  quite  right,"  I  answered, 
with  great  misgivings;  "  else  it  is  a  sad  mistake  for  anybody 
to  live,  sir." 

"  Therefore,"  he  continued,  as  if  I  had  never  spoken, 
"though  it  may  seem  hard  for  a  week  or  two,  like  the  loss 
of  any  other  toy,  I  deprive  you  of  nothing,  b"t  add  to 


334  LORNA  DOONE. 

your  comfort,  and  (if  there  be  such  a  thing)  to  your  hap- 
piness, when  I  forbid  you  ever  to  see  that  foolish  child 
again.  All  marriage  is  a  wretched  farce,  even  when  man  and 
wife  belong  to  the  same  rank  of  life,  have  temper  well 
assorted,  similar  likes  and  dislikes,  and  about  the  same 
pittance  of  mind.  But  when  they  are  not  so  matched,  the 
farce  would  become  a  long,  dull  tragedy  of  anything  worth 
lamenting.  There,  I  have  reasoned  enough  with  you;  I 
am  not  in  the  habit  of  reasoning.  Though  I  have  little 
confidence  in  man^s  honor,  I  have  some  reliance  in  woman's 
pride.  You  will  pledge  your  word  in  Lorna's  presence 
never  to  see  or  seek  her  again;  never  even  to  think  of  her 
more.     Now  call  her,  for  I  am  weary." 

He  kept  his  great  eyes  fixed  upon  me  with  their  icy  fire 
(as  if  he  scorned  both  life  and  death),  and  on  his  haughty 
lips  some  slight  amusement  at  my  trouble;  and  then  he 
raised  one  hand  (as  if  I  were  a  poor  dumb  creature),  and 
pointed  to  the  door.  Although  my  heart  rebelled  and 
kindled  at  his  proud  disdain,  I  could  not  disobey  him 
freely;  but  made  a  low  salute,  and  went  straightway  in 
search  of  Lorna. 

I  found  my  love  (or  not  my  love,  according  as  now  she 
should  behave;  for  I  was  very  desperate,  being  put  upon  so 
sadly).  Lorna  Doone  was  crying  softly  at  a  little  window, 
and  listening  to  the  river's  grief.  I  laid  my  heavy  arm 
around  her,  not  with  any  air  of  claiming  or  of  forcing  her 
thoughts  to  me,  but  only  just  to  comfort  her,  and  ask  what 
she  was  thinking  of.  To  my  arm  she  made  no  answer, 
neither  to  my  seeking  eyes;  but  to  my  heart,  once  for  all, 
she  spoke  with  her  own  upon  it.  Not  a  word  nor  sound 
between  us;  not  even  a  kiss  was  interchanged;  but  man, 
or  maid,  who  has  ever  loved  hath  learned  our  under- 
standing. 

Therefore  it  came  to  pass  that  we  saw  fit  to  enter  Sir 
Ensor's  room  in  the  following  manner:  Lorna,  with  her  right 
hand  swallowed  entirely  by  the  palm  of  mine,  and  her  waist 
retired  from  view  by  means  of  my  left  arm.  All  one  side 
of  her  hair  came  down,  in  a  way  to  be  remembered,  upon 
the  left  and  fairest  part  of  my  favorite  otter-skin  waistcoat; 
and  her  head  as  well  would  have  lain  there  doubtless,  but 
for  the  danger  of  walking  so.  I,  for  my  part,  was  too  far 
gone  to  lag  behind  in  the  matter,  but  carried  my  love 


TWO  FOOLS  TOGETll^H.  335 

bravely,  fearing  neither  death  nor  hell  while  she  abode 
beside  me. 

Old  Sir  Ensor  looked  much  astonished.  For  forty  years 
he  had  been  obeyed  and  feared  by  all  around  him;  and  he 
knew  that  I  had  feared  him  vastly  before  I  got  hold  of 
Lorna.  And  indeed  I  was  still  afraid  of  him;  only  for 
loving  Lorna  so,  and  having  to  protect  her. 

Then  1  made  him  a  bow,  to  the  very  best  of  all  I  had 
learned  both  at  Tiverton  and  in  London;  after  that  I 
waited  for  him  to  begin,  as  became  his  age  and  rank  in 
life. 

*' Ye  two  fools!"  he  said  at  last,  with  a  depth  of  con- 
tempt which  no  words  may  express;  "ye  two  fools!" 

"  May  it  please  your  worship,"  I  answered,  softly;  "maybe 
we  are  not  such  fools  as  we  look.  But  though  we  be,  we 
are  well  content,  so  long  as  we  may  be  two  fools  together." 

"Why,  John,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  spark  as  of 
smiling  in  his  eyes;  "  thou  art  not  altogether  the  clumsy 
yokel  and  the  clod  I  took  thee  for." 

"  Oh  no,  grandfather ;  oh,  dear  grandfather,"  cried 
Lorna,  with  such  zeal  and  flashing  that  her  hands  went 
forward;  "nobody  knows  what  John  Ridd  is,  because  he 
is  so  modest.  I  mean  nobody  except  me,  dear."  And 
here  she  turned  to  me  again,  and  rose  upon  tiptoe,  and 
kissed  me. 

"  I  have  seen  a  little  of  the  world,"  said  the  old  man, 
while  I  was  half  ashamed,  although  so  proud  of  Lorna; 
"  but  this  is  beyond  all  I  have  seen  and  nearly  all  I  have 
heard  of.  It  is  more  fit  for  southern  climates  than  for  the 
fogs  of  Exmoor." 

"It  is  fit  for  all  the  world,  your  worship;  with  your 
honor's  good  leave  and  will,"  I  answered,  in  humility,  being 
still  ashamed  of  it;  "  when  it  happens  so  to  people,  there 
is  nothing  that  can  stop  it,  sir." 

Now  Sir  Ensor  Doone  was  leaning  back  upon  his  brown 
chair-rail,  which  was  built  like  a  triangle,  as  in  old  farm- 
houses (from  one  of  which  it  had  come,  no  doubt,  free 
from  expense  or  giatitude);  as  I  spoke  he  coughed  a  little; 
and  he  sighed  a  good  deal  more;  and  perhaps  his  dying 
heart  desired  to  open  time  again,  with  such  a  lift  of  warmth 
and  hope  as  he  descried  in  our  eyes  and  arms.  I  could  not 
understand  him  then,  any  more  than  a  baby  playing  with 


336  LOR^A  DOONE, 

his  grandfather's  spectacles ;  nevertheless  I  wondered 
whether,  at  his  time  of  life,  or  rather  on  the  brink  of 
death,  he  was  thinking  of  his  youth  and  pride. 

'^  Fools  you  are;  be  fools  forever,''  said  Sir  Ensor  Doone 
at  last;  while  we  feared  to  break  his  thoughts,  but  let  each 
other  know  our  own,  with  little  ways  of  pressure:  ''it  is 
the  best  thing  I  can  wish  you;  boy  and  girl,  be  boy  and 
girl,  until  you  have  grandchildren." 

Partly  in  bitterness  he  spoke,  and  partly  in  pure  weari- 
ness, and  then  he 'turned  so  as  not  to  see  us;  and  his  white 
hair  fell,  like  a  shroud,  around  him. 


COLD  COMFORT.  ^3^ 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

COLD  COMFORT. 

All  things  being  full  of  flaw,  all  things  being  full  of 
holes,  the  strength  of  all  things  is  in  shortness.  If  Sir 
Ensor  Doone  had  dwelled  for  half  an  hour  upon  himself, 
and  an  hour  perhaps  upon  Lorna  and  me,  we  must  both 
have  wearied  of  him,  and  required  change  of  air.  But 
now  I  longed  to  see  and  know  a  great  deal  more  about  him, 
and  hoped  that  he  might  not  go  to  heaven  for  at  least  a 
week  or  more.  However,  he  was  too  good  for  this  world 
(as  we  say  of  all  people  who  leave  it);  and  I  verily  believe 
his  heart  was  not  a  bad  one,  after  all. 

Evil  he  had  done,  no  doubt,  as  evil  had  been  done  to 
him;  yet  how  many  have  done  evil,  while  receiving  only 
good!  Be  that  as  it  may;  and  not  vexing  a  question 
(settled  forever  without  our  votes),  let  us  own  that  he  was, 
at  least,  a  brave  and  courteous  gentleman. 

And  his  loss  aroused  great  lamentation,  not  among  the 
Doones  alone  and  the  women  they  had  carried  oif,  but  also 
of  the  general  public,  and  many  even  of  the  magistrates, 
for  several  miles  round  Exmoor.  And  this,  not  only  from 
fear  lest  one  more  wicked  might  succeed  him  (as  appeared, 
indeed,  too  probable),  but  from  true  admiration  of  his 
strong  will,  and  sympathy  with  his  misfortunes. 

I  will  not  deceive  any  one  by  saying  that  Sir  Ensor 
Doone  gave  (in  so  many  words)  his  consent  to  my  resolve 
about  Lorna.  This  he  never  did,  except  by  his  speech 
last  written  down;  from  which,  as  he  mentioned  grand- 
children, a  lawyer  perhaps  might  have  argued  it.  Not  but 
what  he  may  have  meant  to  bestow  on  us  his  blessing;  only 
that  he  died  next  day,  without  taking  the  trouble  to  do  it. 

He  called,  indeed,  for  his  box  of  snuff,  which  was  a  very 
high  thing  to  take;  and  which  he  never  took  without 


338  lORNA  DOONE\ 

being  in  very  good  humor,  at  least  for  him.  And  though 
it  would  not  go  up  his  nostrils,  through  the  failure  of  hu 
breath,  he  was  pleased  to  have  it  there,  and  not  to  think 
of  dying. 

'^Will  your  honor  have  it  wiped  ?"  I  asked  him  very  softly, 
for  the  brown  appearance  of  it  spoiled  (to  my  idea)  his 
white  mustache;  but  he  seemed  to  shake  his  head,  and  I 
thought  it  kept  his  spirits  up.  I  had  never  before  seen  any 
one  do,  what  all  of  us  have  to  do  some  day;  and  it  greatly 
kept  my  spirits  down,  although  it  did  not  so  very  much 
frighten  me. 

For  it  takes  a  man  but  a  little  while,  his  instinct  being 
of  death,  perhaps,  at  least  as  much  as  of  life  (which  ac- 
counts for  his  slaying  his  fellow-men  so,  and  every  other 
creature),  it  does  not  take  a  man  very  long  to  enter  into 
another  man's  death,  and  bring  his  own  mood  to  suit  it. 
He  knows  that  his  own  is  sure  to  come;  and  nature  is  fond 
of  the  practice.  Hence  it  came  to  pass  that  I,  after  easing 
my  mother's  fears,  and  seeing  a  little  to  business,  returned 
(as  if  drawn  by  a  polar  needle)  to  the  death-bed  of  Sir 
Ensor. 

There  was  some  little  confusion,  people  wanting  to  get 
away,  and  people  trying  to  come  in,  from  downright 
curiosity  (of  all  things  the  most  hateful),  and  others 
making  great  todo,  and  talking  of  their  own  time  to  come, 
telling  their  own  age,  and  so  on.  But  every  one  seemed 
to  think,  or  feel,  that  I  had  a  right  to  be  there,  because 
the  women  took  that  view  of  it.  As  for  Carver  and 
Counselor,  they  were  minding  their  own  affairs,  so  as  to 
win  the  succession;  and  never  found  it  in  their  business 
(as  least  so  long  as  I  was  there)  to  come  near  the  dying 
man. 

He,  for  his  part,  never  asked  for  any  one  to  come  near 
him — not  even  a  priest,  nor  a  monk  or  friar;  but  seemed 
to  be  going  his  own  way,  peaceful,  and  well  contented. 
Only  the  chief  of  the  women  said  that  from  his  face  she 
bolieved  and  knew  that  he  liked  to  have  me  at  one  side  of 
his  bed,  and  Lorna  upon  the  other.  An  hour  or  two  ere 
the  old  man  died,  when  only  we  two  were  with  him,  he 
looked  at  us  both  very  dimly  and  softly,  as  if  he  wished  to 
do  something  for  us,  but  had  left  it  now  too  late.  Lorna 
hoped  that  he  wanted  to  bless  us;  but  he  only  frowned  at 


COLD  COMFORT.  339 

that,  and  let  his  hand  drop  downward,  and  crooked  one 
knotted  finger. 

'*  He  wants  something  out  of  the  bed,  dear/^  Lorna 
whispered  to  me;  '*  see  what  it  is,  upon  your  side,  there." 

I  followed  the  bent  of  his  poor  shrunken  hand,  and 
sought  among  tlie  pillings,  and  there  I  felt  something 
hard  and  sharp,  and  drew  it  forth  and  gave  it  to  him.  It 
flashed,  like  the  spray  of  a  fountain  upon  ns,  in  the  dark 
winter  of  the  room.  He  could  not  take  it  in  his  hand,  but 
let  it  hang,  as  daisies  do,  only  making  Lorna  see  that  he 
meant  her  to  have  it. 

*'Why,  it  is  my  glass  necklace!"  Lorna  cried,  in  great 
surprise;  ^*  my  necklace  he  always  promised  me;  and  from 
which  you  have  got  the  ring,  John.  But  grandfather  kept 
it,  because  the  children  wanted  to  pull  it  from  my  neck. 
May  I  have  it  now,  dear  grandfather?  Not  unless  you 
wish,  dear." 

Darling  Lorna  wept  again,  because  the  old  man  could 
not  tell  her  (except  by  one  very  feeble  nod)  that  she  was 
doing  what  he  wished.  Then  she  gave  to  me  the  trinket,  for 
the  sake  of  safety,  and  I  stowed  it  in  my  breast.  He 
seemed  to  me  to  follow  this,  and  to  be  well  content  with  it. 

Before  Sir  Ensor  Doone  was  buried,  the  greatest  frost  of 
the  century  had  set  in,  with  its  iron  hand,  and  step  of 
stone,  on  everything.  How  it  came  is  not  my  business, 
nor  can  I  explain  it;  because  I  never  have  watched  the 
skies,  as  people  now  begin  to  do  when  the  ground  is  not 
to  their  liking.  Though  of  all  this  1  know  nothing,  and 
less  than  nothing,  I  may  say  (because  I  ought  to  know 
something),  I  can  hear  what  people  tell  me,  and  I  can  see 
before  my  eyes. 

The  strong  men  broke  three  good  pick-axes  ere  they  got 
through  the  hard  brown  sod,  streaked  with  little  heaps  of 
gray,  where  old  Sir  Ensor  was  to  lie  upon  his  back,  awaiting 
the  darkness  of  the  judgment-day.  It  was  in  the  little 
chapel-yard;  I  will  not  tell  the  name  of  it,  because  we  are 
now  such  Protestants  that  I  might  do  it  an  evil  turn;  only 
it  was  the  little  place  where  Lorna^s  Aunt  Sabina  lay. 

Here  was  I,  remaining  long,  with  a  little  curiosity;  be- 
cause some  people  told  me  plainly  that  I  must  be  damned 
forever  by  a  Papist  funeral;  and  here  came  Lorna,  scarcely- 
breathing,  through  the  thick  of  stuff  around  her,  yet  with 
all  her  little  breath  steaming  on  the  air  like  frost. 


340  LORNA  BOONE, 

I  stood  apart  from  the  ceremony,  in  which,  of  course,  I 
was  not  entitled,  either  by  birth  or  religion,  to  bear  any 
portion;  and  indeed  it  would  have  been  wiser  in  me 
to  have  kept  away  altogether;  for  now  there  was  no  one  to 
protect  me  among  those  wild  and  lawless  men;  and  both 
Carver  and  the  Counselor  had  vowed  a  fearful  vengeance  on 
iiie,  as  I  heard  from  Gwenny.  They  had  not  dared  to 
meddle  with  me  while  their  chief  lay  dying;  nor  was  it  in 
their  policy,  for  a  short  time  after  that,  to  endanger  their 
succession  by  an  open  breach  with  Lorna,  whose  tender  age 
and  beauty  held  so  many  of  the  j^ouths  in  thrall. 

The  ancient  outlaw's  funeral  was  a  grand  and  moving 
sight;  more,  perhaps,  from  the  sense  of  contrast  than  from 
that  ot  fitness.  To  see  those  dark  and  mighty  men,  inured 
to  all  of  sin  and  crime,  reckless  both  of  man  and  God,  yet 
now  with  heads  devoutly  bent,  clasped  hands  and  downcast 
eyes,  following  the  long  black  coffin  of  their  common 
ancestor  to  the  place  where  they  must  join  him  when  their 
sum  of  ill  was  done;  and  to  see  the  feeble  priest  chanting  over 
the  dead  form  words  the  living  would  have  laughed  at, 
sprinkling  with  his  little  broom  drops  that  could  not  purify; 
while  the  children  robed  in  white,  swung  their  smoking 
censors  slowly  over  the  cold  and  twilight  grave;  and  after 
seeing  all,  to  ask,  with  a  shudder  unexpressed,  '*  Is  this 
the  end  that  God  intended  for  a  man  so  proud  and  strong?" 

Not  a  tear  was  shed  upon  him  except  from  the  sweetest 
of  all  sweet  e^^es;  not  a  sigh  pursued  him  home.  Except 
in  hot  anger,  his  life  had  been  cold,  and  bitter,  and  dis- 
tant; and  now  a  week  had  exhausted  all  the  sorrow  of 
those  around  him,  a  grief  flowing  less  from  affection  than 
fear.  Aged  men  will  show  his  tombstone;  mothers  haste 
with  their  infants  by  it;  children  shrink  from  the  name 
upon  it;  until  in  time  his  history  shall  lapse  and  be  for- 
gotten by  all,  except  the  great  Judge  and  God. 

After  all  was  over  I  strode  across  the  moors  verj  sadly, 
trying  to  keep  the  cold  away  by  virtue  of  quick  movement. 
Not  a  flake  of  snow  had  fallen  yet;  all  the  earth  was  caked 
and  hard,  with  a  dry  brown  crust  upon  it;  all  the  sky  was 
banked  with  darkness,  hard,  austere  and  frowning.  The 
fog  of  the  last  three  weeks  was  gone,  neither  did  any  rime 
remain;  but  all  things  had  a  look  of  sameness,  and  a  kind 
of  furzy  color.     It  was  freezing  hard  and  sharp,  with  a 


COLD  COMFORT.  341 

piercing  wind  to  back  it;  and  I  had  observed  that  the  holy 
water  froze  upon  Sir  Ensor's  coffin. 

One  thing  struck  me  with  some  surprise,  as  I  made  off 
for  our  fireside  (with  a  strong  determination  to  heave  an 
ash-tree  up  the  chimney-place),  and  that  was  how  the 
birds  were  going,  rather  than  flying  as  they  used  to  fly. 
All  the  birds  were  set  in  one  direction,  steadily  Journeying 
westward;  not  with  any  heat  of  speed,  neither  flying  far  at 
once;  but  all  (as  if  on  business  bound)  partly  running, 
partly  flying,  partly  fluttering  along;  silently,  and  without 
a  voice,  neither  pricking  head  nor  tail.  This  movement 
of  the  birds  went  on  even  for  a  week  or  more;  every  kind  of 
thrushes  passed  us;  every  kind  of  wild  fowl;  even  plovers 
went  away,  and  crows,  and  snipes,  and  woodcocks.  And 
before  half  the  frost  was  over,  all  we  had  in  the  snowj 
ditches  were  hares  so  tame  that  we  could  pat  them;  par- 
tridges that  came  to  hand,  with  a  dry  noise  in  their  crops; 
heath-poults,  making  cups  of  snow;  and  a  few  poor  hopping 
red-wings,  flipping  in  and  out  the  hedge,  having  lost  the 
power  to  fly.  And  all  the  time  their  great  black  eyes,  set 
with  gold  around  them,  seemed  to  look  at  any  man  for 
mercy  and  for  comfort. 

Annie  took  a-many  of  them,  all  that  she  could  find  her- 
self, and  all  the  boys  would  bring  her;  and  she  made  a 
great  hutch  near  the  fire,  in  the  back-kitchen  chimney- 
place.  Here,  in  spite  of  our  old  Betty  (who  sadly  wanted 
to  roast  them),  Annie  kept  some  fifty  birds,  with  bread 
and  milk,  and  raw  chopped  meat,  and  all  the  seed  she 
could  think  of,  and  lumps  of  rotten  apples,  placed,  to 
tempt  them,  in  the  corners.  Some  got  on,  and  some  died 
off;  and  Annie  cried  for  all  that  died,  and  buried  them 
under  the  wood  rick;  but  I  do  assure  you  it  was  a  pretty 
thing  to  see,  when  she  went  to  them  in  the  morning. 
There  was  not  a  bird  but  knew  her  well,  after  one  day  of 
comforting;  and  some  would  come  to  her  hand,  and  sit, 
and  shift  one  eye,  and  look  at  her.  Then  she  used  to 
stroke  their  heads,  and  feel  their  breasts,  and  talk  to  them; 
and  not  a  bird  of  ,them  all  was  there  but  liked  to  have  it 
done  to  him.  And  I  do  believe  they  would  eat  from  her 
hand  things  unnatural  to  them,  lest  she  should  be  grieved 
and  hurt  by  not  knowing  what  to  do  for  them.  One  of 
them  was  a  noble  bird,  such  as  I  never  had  seen  before,  of 


342  LORNA  BOONE. 

very  fine  bright  plumage,  and  larger  than  a  missel-thrush. 
He  was  the  hardest  of  all  to  please;  and  yet  he  tried  to  do 
his  best.  I  have  heard  since  then,  from  a  man  who  knows 
all  about  birds,  and  beasts,  and  fishes,  that  he  must  have 
been  a  Norwegian  bird,  called  in  this  country  a  '^  roller," 
who  never  comes  to  England  but  in  the  most  tremendous 
winters. 

Another  little  bird  there  was,  whom  I  longed  to  welcome 
home,  and  protect  from  enemies — a  little  bird  no  native  to 
us,  but  than  any  native  dearer.  But  lo,  in  the  very  night 
which  followed  old  Sir  Ensor's  funeral,  such  a  stcrm  of 
snow  began  as  never  have  I  heard  nor  read  of,  neither 
could  have  dreamed  it.  At  what  time  of  night  it  first 
began  is  more  than  I  can  say — at  least  from  my  own  knowl- 
edge, for  we  all  went  to  bed  soon  after  supper,  being  cold, 
and  not  inclined  to  talk.  At  that  time  the  wind  was  moan- 
ing sadly,  and  the  sky  as  dark  as  a  wood,  and  the  straw  in 
the  yard  swirling  round  and  round,  and  the  cows  huddling 
into  the  great  cow-house,  with  their  chins  upon  one  an- 
other. But  we,  being  blinder  than  they,  I  suppose,  and 
not  having  had  a  great  snow  for  years,  made  no  preparation 
against  the  storm,  except  that  the  lambing  ewes  were  in 
shelter. 

It  struck  me,  as  I  lay  in  bed,  that  we  were  acting  fool- 
ishly; for  an  ancient  shepherd  had  dropped  in  and  taken 
supper  with  us,  and  foretold  a  heavy  fall,  and  great  dis- 
aster to  live  stock.  He  said  that  he  had  known  a  frost  be- 
ginning just  as  this  had  done,  with  a  black  east  wind,  after 
days  of  raw,  cold  fog,  and  then  on  the  third  night  of  the 
frost,  at  this  very  time  of  year  (to-wit,  on  the  15th  of  De- 
cember), such  a  snow  set  in  as  killed  half  of  the  sheep,  and 
many  even  of  the  red  deer  and  the  forest  ponies.  It  was 
three-score  years  agone,*  he  said;  and  cause  he  had  to  re- 
member it,  inasmuch  as  two  of  his  toes  had  been  lost  by 
frost-nip,  while  he  dug  out  his  sheep  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Dunkery.  Hereupon  mother  nodded  at  him,  having 
heard  from  her  father  about  it,  and  how  three  men  had 
been  frozen  to  death,  and  how  badly  their  stockings  came 
off  from  them. 

Eemembering  how  the  old  man  looked,  and  his  manner 

*The  frost  of  1625. 


COLD  COMFORT.  343 

of  listening  to  the  wind  and  shaking  his  head  very  omin- 
ously (when  Annie  gave  him  a  glass  of  schnapps),  I  grew 
quite  uneasy  in  my  bed,  as  the  room  got  colder  and  colder; 
and  I  made  up  my  mind,  if  it  only  pleased  God  not  to  send 
the  snow  till  the  morning,  that  every  sheep,  and  horse,  and 
cow,  ay,  and  even  the  ponltry,  should  be  brought  in  snug; 
and  with  plenty  to  eat,  and  fodder  enough  to  roast  them. 

Alas,  what  use  of  man's  resolves,  when  they  come  a  day 
too  late,  even  if  they  may  avail  a  little  when  they  are  most 
punctual! 

In  the  bitter  morning  I  arose,  to  follow  out  my  purpose., 
knowing  the  time  from  the  force  of  habit,  although  the 
room  was  so  dark  and  gray.  An  odd  white  light  was  on 
the  rafters,  such  as  I  never  had  seen  before;  while  all  the 
length  of  the  room  was  grizzly,  like  the  heart  of  a  moldy 
oat-rick.  I  went  to  the  window  at  once,  of  course;  and 
at  first  I  could  not  understand  what  was  doing  outside  of 
it.  It  faced  due  east  ^as  I  may  have  said),  with  the 
walnut-tree  partly  sheltering  it;  and  generally  I  could  see 
the  yard,  and  the  wood -rick,  and  even  the  church  beyond. 

But  now  half  the  lattice  was  quite  blocked  up,  as  if  plas- 
tered with  gray  lime;  and  little  fringes,  like  ferns,  came 
through,  where  the  joining  of  the  lead  was;  and  in  the  only 
undarkened  part,  countless  dots  came  swarming,  cluster- 
ing, beating  with  a  soft,  low  sound,  then  gliding  down  in 
a  slippery  manner,  not  as  drops  of  rain  do,  but  each  dis- 
tinct from  his  neighbor.  Inside  the  iron  frame  (which 
fitted,  not  to  say  too  comfortably,  and  went  along  the 
stone  work),  at  least  a  peck  of  snow  had  entered,  following 
its  own  bend  and  fancy,  light  as  any  cobweb. 

With  some  trouble,  and  great  care,  lest  the  ancient 
frame  should  yield,  I  spread  the  lattice  open,  and  saw  at 
once  that  not  a  moment  must  be  lost  to  save  our  stock. 
All  the  earth  was  flat  with  snow,  all  the  air  was  thick  with 
snow;  more  than  this  no  man  could  see,  for  all  the  world 
was  snowing. 

I  shut  the  window  and  dressed  in  haste;  and  when  I 
entered  the  kitchen,  not  even  Betty,  the  earliest  of  all 
early  birds,  was  there.  I  raked  the  ashes  together  a  little, 
just  to  see  a  spark  of  warmth;  and  then  set  forth  to  find 
John  Fry,  Jem  Slocombe  and  Bill  Dadds.  But  this  was 
easier  thought  than   done;  for  when  I  opened  the  court- 


344  LORNA  DOONE. 

yard  door,  I  was  taken  up  to  my  knees  at  once,  and  the 
power  of  the  drifting  cloud  prevented  sight  of  anything. 
However,  I  found  my  way  to  the  wood-rick,  and  there  got 
hold  of  a  fine  ash-stake  cut  by  myself  not  long  ago.  AVith 
this  I  plowed  along  pretty  well,  and  thundered  so  hard  at 
John  Fry's  door,  that  he  thought  it  was  the  Doones  at 
least,  and  cocked  his  blunderbuss  out  of  the  window. 

John  was  very  loath  to  come  down  when  he  saw  the 
meaning  of  it;  for  he  valued  his  life  more  than  anything 
else,  though  he  tried  to  make  out  that  his  wife  was  to 
blame.  But  I  settled  his  doubts  by  telling  him  that  I 
would  have  him  on  my  shoulder  naked,  unless  he  came  in 
five  minutes;  not  that  he  could  do  much  good,  but  because 
the  other  men  would  be  sure  to  skulk  if  he  set  them  the 
example.  With  spades,  and  shovels,  and  pitchforks,  and  a 
round  of  roping,  we  four  set  forth  to  dig  out  the  sheep; 
and  the  poor  things  knew  that  it  was  high  time. 


THE  GREAT  WINTER.  345 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

THE     GREAT     WINTER. 

It  must  have  snowed  most  woiiderfjilly  to  have  made 
that  depth  of  covering  in  about  eight  hours.  For  one  of 
Master  Stickles'  men,  who  had  been  out  all  the  night,  said 
that  no  snow  began  to  fall  until  nearly  midnight.  And 
there  it  was,  blocking  up  the  doors,  stopping  the  ways,  and 
the  water-courses,  and  making  it  very  much  worse  to  walk 
than  in  a  saw-pit  newly  used.  However,  we  trudged 
along  in  a  line;  I  first,  and  the  other  men  after  me;  trying 
to  keep  my  track,  but  finding  legs  and  strength  not  up  to 
it.  Most  of  all,  John  Fry  was  groaning;  certain  that  his 
time  was  come,  and  sending  messages  to  his  wife,  and 
blessings  to  his  children.  For  all  this  time  it  was  snowing 
harder  than  it  ever  had  snowed  before,  so  far  as  a  man 
might  guess  at  it;  and  the  leaden  depth  of  the  sky  came 
down,  like  a  mine  turned  upside  down  on  us.  Not  that 
the  flakes  were  so  very  large;  for  I  have  seen  much  larger 
flakes  in  a  shower  of  March,  .while  sowing  peas;  but  that 
there  was  no  room  between  them,  neither  any  relaxing, 
nor  any  change  of  direction. 

Watch,  like  a  good  and  faithful  dog,  followed  us  very 
cheerfully,  leaping  out  of  the  depth,  which  took  him  over 
his  back  and  ears  already,  even  in  the  level  places;  while 
in  the  drifts  he  might  have  sunk  to  any  distance  out  of 
sight,  and  never  found  his  way  up  again.  However,  we 
helped  him  now  and  then,  especially  through  the  gaps  and 
gate-ways;  and  so,  after  a  deal  of  floundering,  some  laugh- 
ter, and  a  little  swearing,  we  came  all  safe  to  the  lower 
meadow,  where  most  of  our  flock  was  hurdled. 

But  behold,  there  was  no  flock  at  all!  None,  I  mean  to 
be  seen  anywhere;  only  at  one  corner  of  the  field,  by  the 
eastern  end^  where  the  snow  drove  in,  a  great  white  billow, 
as  high  as  a  barn  and  as  broad  as  a  house.     This  great 


346  LORNA  BOONE. 

drift  was  rolling  and  curling  beneath  the  violent  blast, 
tufting  and  combing  with  rustling  swirls,  and  carved  (as 
in  patterns  of  cornice)  where  the  grooving  chisel  of  the 
wind  swept  round.  Ever  and  again  the  tempest  snatched 
little  whiffs  from  the  channeled  edges,  twirled  them  round 
and  made  them  dance  over  the  chine  of  the  monster  pile, 
then  let  them  lie  like  herring-bones,  or  the  seams  of  sand 
where  the  tide  has  been.  And  all  the  while  from  the 
smothering  sky,  more  and  more  fiercely  at  every  blast,  came 
the  pelting,  pitiless  arrows,  winged  with  murky  white,  and 
pointed  with  the  barbs  of  frost. 

But  although,  for  people  who  had  no  sheep,  the  sight 
was  a  very  fine  one  (so  far,  at  least  as  the  weather  per- 
mitted any  sight  at  all);  yet  for  us,  with  our  flock  beneath 
it,  this  great  mount  had  but  little  charm.  Watch  began 
to  scratch  at  once,  and  to  howl  along  the  sides  of  it;  he 
knew  that  his  charge  was  buried  there,  and  his  business 
taken  from  him.  But  we  four  men  set  to  in  earnest,  dig- 
ging with  all  our  might  and  main,  shoveling  away  at  the 
great  white  pile,  and  pitching  it  into  the  meadow.  Each 
man  made  for  himself  a  cave,  scooping  at  the  soft  cold 
flux,  which  slid  upon  him  at  every  stroke,  and  throwing  it 
out  behind  him,  in  piles  of  castled  fancy.  At  last  we 
drove  our  tunnels  in  (for  we  worked  indeed  for  the  lives  of 
us),  and  all  converging  toward  the  middle,  held  our  toolQ 
and  listened. 

The  other  men  heard  nothing  at  all;  or  declared  that 
they  heard  nothing,  being  anxious  now  to  abandon  the 
matter,  because  of  the  chill  in  their  feet  and  knees.  But 
I  said,  '*  Go,  if  you  choose,  all  of  you.  I  will  work  it  out 
by  myself,  you  pie-crusts!"  and  upon  that  they  gripped 
their  shovels,  being  more  or  less  of  Englishmen;  and  the 
least  drop  of  English  blood  is  worth  the  best  of  any  other 
when  it  comes  to  lasting  out. 

But  before  we  began  again,  I  laid  my  head  well  into  the 
chamber;  and  there  I  heard  a  faint  *'ma-a-ah,"  coming 
through  some  ells  of  snow,  like  a  plaintive  buried  hope,  or 
a  last  appeal.  I  shouted  aloud  to  cheer  him  up,  for  I  knew 
what  sheep  it  was — to-wit,  the  most  valiant  of  all  the 
wethers,  who  had  met  me  when  I  came  home  from  London, 
and  been  so  glad  to  see  me.  And  when  we  all  fell  to  again, 
and  very  soon  we  hauled  him  out.     Watch  took  charge  of 


THE  ORE  AT  WINTER.  347 

him  at  once,  with  an  air  of  the  noblest  patronage,  lying  on 
his  frozen  fleece,  and  licking  all  his  face  and  feet,  to  restore 
his  warmth  to  him.  Then  fighting  Tom  jumped  np  at 
once,  and  made  a  little  butt  at  Watch,  as  if  nothing  had 
ever  ailed  him,  and  then  set  off  to  a  shallow  place,  and 
looked  for  something  to  nibble  at. 

Further  in,  and  close  under  the  bank,  where  they  had 
huddled  themselves  for  warmth,  we  found  all  the  rest  of 
the  poor  sheep  packed,  as  closely  as  if  they  were  in  a  great 
pie.  It  was  strange  to  observe  how  their  vapor,  and  breath, 
and  the  moisture  exuding  from  their  wool,  had  scooped,  as 
it  were,  a  covered  room  for  them,  lined  with  a  ribbing  of 
deep  yellow  snow.  Also  the  churned  snow  beneath  their 
feet  was  as  yellow  as  gamboge.  Two  or  three  of  the  weak- 
lier hoggets  were  dead  from  want  of  air,  and  from  pressure; 
but  more  than  three-score  were  as  lively  as  ever,  thougli 
cramped  and  stiff  for  a  little  while. 

'^However  shall  us  get  'em  homeP'  John  Fry  asked,  in 
great  dismay,  when  we  had  cleared  about  a  dozen  of  them; 
which  we  were  forced  to  do  very  carefully,  so  as  not  to 
fetch  the  roof  down.  "No  manner  of  maning  to  draive 
'un,  d rough  all  they  girt  driftnesses." 

"You  see  to  this  place,  John,"  I  replied,  as  we  leaned 
on  our  shovels  a  moment,  and  the  sheep  came  rubbing 
round  us.  "Let  no  more  of  them  out  for  the  present; 
tliey  are  better  where  they  be.  Watch !  here,  boy,  keep 
them." 

Watch  came,  with  his  little  scut  of  a  tail  cocked  as  sharp 
as  duty;  and  I  set  him  at  the  narrow  mouth  of  the  great 
snow  autre.  All  the  sheep  sidled  away,  and  got  closer, 
that  the  other  sheep  might  be  bitten  first,  as  the  foolish 
things  imagine;  whereas  no  good  sheep-dog  even  so  much 
as  lips  a  sheep  to  turn  it. 

Then  of  the  outer  sheep  (all  now  snowed  and  frizzled 
like  a  lawyer's  wig)  I  took  the  two  finest  and  heaviest,  and 
with  one  beneath  my  right  arm,  and  the  other  beneath  my 
left,  I  went  straight  home  to  the  upper  sheppey,  and  set 
them  inside,  and  fastened  them.  Sixty-and-six  1  took 
home  in  that  way,  two  at  a  time  on  each  journey;  and  the 
work  grew  harder  and  harder  each  time,  as  the  drifts  of 
the  snow  were  deepening.  No  other  man  should  meddle 
with  them:  I  was  resolved  to  try  my  strength  against  the 


348  LORNA  BOONE. 

strength  of  the  elements;  and  try  it  I  did,  ay,  and  proved 
it.  A  certain  fierce  delight  burned  in  me,  as  the  struggle 
grew  harder;  but  rather  would  I  die  than  yield;  and  at  last 
I  finished  it.  People  talk  of  it  to  this  day:  but  none  can 
tell  what  the  labor  was,  who  have  not  felt  that  snow  and 
wind. 

Of  the  sheep  upon  the  mountain,  and  the  sheep  upon 
the  western  farm,  and  the  cattle  on  the  upper  barrows, 
scarcely  one  in  ten  was  saved,  do  what  we  would  for  them. 
And  this  was  not  through  any  neglect  (now  that  our  wits 
were  sharpened),  but  from  the  pure  impossibility  of  find- 
ing them  at  all.  That  great  snow  never  ceased  a  moment 
for  three  days  and  nights;  and  then  when  all  the  earth  was 
filled,  and  the  topmost  hedges  were  unseen,  and  the  trees 
broke  down  with  weight  (wherever  the  wind  had  not  light- 
ened them),  a  brilliant  sun  broke  forth  and  showed  the  loss 
of  all  our  customs. 

All  our  house  was  quite  snowed  up,  except  where  we  had 
purged  a  way  by  dint  of  constant  shovelings.  The  kitchen 
was  as  dark,  and  darker,  than  the  cider-cellar,  and  long 
lines  of  furrowed  scollops  ran  even  up  to  the  chimney- 
stacks.  Several  windows  fell  right  inward,  through  the 
weight  of  the  snow  against  them;  and  the  few  that  stood 
bulged  in,  and  bent  like  an  old  bruised  lantern.  We  were 
obliged  to  cook  by  candle-light;  we  were  forced  to  read  by 
candle-light;  as  for  baking  we  could  not  do  it,  because  the 
oven  was  too  chill;  and  a  load  of  fagots  only  brought  a 
little  wet  down  the  sides  of  it. 

For  when  the  sun  burst  forth  at  last  upon  the  world  of 
white,  what  he  brought  was  neither  warmth,  nor  cheer,  nor 
hope  of  softening;  only  a  clearer  shaft  of  cold,  from  the 
violent  depths  of  sky.  Long-drawn  alleys  of  white  haze 
seemed  to  lead  toward  him,  3'et  puch  as  he  could  not  come 
down,  with  any  warmth  remaining.  Broad  white  curtains 
of  the  frost-fog  looped  around  the  lower  sky,  on  the  verge 
of  hill  and  valley,  and  above  the  laden  trees.  Only  round 
the  sun  himself,  and  the  spot  of  heaven  he  claimed,  clus- 
tered a  bright  purple-blue,  clear,  and  calm,  and  deep. 

That  night  such  a  frost  ensued  as  we  had  never  dreamed 
of,  neither  read  in  ancient  books,  or  histories  of  Frobisher. 
The  kettle  by  the  fire  froze,  and  the  crock  upon  the  hearth- 
cheeks;  many  men  were  killed,  and  cattle   rigid  in  their 


THE  GREAT  WINTER,  349 

head -ropes.  Then  I  heard  that  fearful  sound  which  never 
I  had  heard  before,  neither  since  have  heard  (except  during 
that  same  winter),  the  sharp  yet  solemn  sound  of  trees 
burst  open  by  the  frost-blow.  Our  great  walnut  lost  three 
branches,  and  has  been  dying  ever  since;  though  growing 
meanwhile,  as  the  soul  does.  And  the  ancient  oak  at  the 
cross  was  rent,  and  many  score  of  ash-trees.  But  why 
should  I  tell  all  this?  The  people  who  have  not  seen  it  (as  I 
have)  will  only  make  faces,  and  disbelieve,  till  such  another 
frost  comes,  which  perhaps  may  never  be. 

This  terrible  weather  kept  Tom  Faggus  from  coming 
near  our  house  for  weeks;  at  which,  indeed,  I  was  not 
vexed  a  quarter  so  much  as  Annie  was;  fov  I  had  never  half 
approved  of  him  as  a  husband  for  my  sister,  in  spite  of  his 
purchase  from  Squire  Bassett,  and  the  grant  of  the  royal 
pardon.  It  may  be,  however,  that  Annie  took  the  same 
view  of  my  love  for  Lorna,  and  could  not  augur  well  of  it; 
but  if  so,  she  held  her  peace,  though  I  was  not  so  sparing. 
For  many  things  contributed  to  make  me  less  good-humored 
now  than  my  real  nature  was;  and  the  very  least  of  all 
these  things  would  have  been  enough  to  make  some  people 
cross,  and  rude,  and  fractious.  I  mean  the  red  and  pain- 
ful chapping  of  my  face  and  hands,  from  working  in  the 
snow  all  day,  and  lying  in  the  frost  all  night.  For  being 
of  a  fair  complexion,  and  a  ruddy  nature,  and  pretty  plump 
withal,  and  fed  on  plenty  of  hot  victuals,  and  always  forced 
by  my  mother  to  sit  nearer  the  fire  than  I  wished,  it  was 
wonderful  to  see  how  the  cold  ran  revel' on  my  cheeks  and 
knuckles.  And  I  feared  that  Lorna  (if  it  should  ever 
please  God  to  stop  the  snowing)  might  take  this  for  a  proof 
of  low  and  rustic  blood  and  breeding. 

And  this,  I  say,  was  the  smallest  thing;  for  it  was  far 
more  serious  that  we  were  losing  half  our  stock,  do  all  we 
would  to  shelter  them.  Even  the  horses  in  the  stables 
(mustered  altogether,  for  the  sake  of  breath  and  steaming) 
had  long  icicles  from  their  muzzles,  almost  every  morning. 
But  of  all  things  the  very  gravest,  to  my  apprehension, 
was  the  impossibility  of  hearing,  or  having  any  token,  of 
or  from  my  loved  one.  Not  that  those  three  days  alone  of 
snow  (tremendous  as  it  was)  could  have  blocked  the  country 
so;  but  that  the  sky  had  never  ceased,  for  more  than  two 
days  at  a  time,  for  full  three  weeks  thereafter,  to  pour 


350  LORN  A  DOONE, 

fresh  piles  of  fleecy  mantle;  neither  had  the  wind  relaxed 
a  single  day  from  shaking  them.  As  a  rule,  it  snowed  all 
day,  cleared  up  at  night,  and  froze  intensely,  with  the  stars 
as  bright  as  jewels,  earth  spread  out  in  lustrous  twilight, 
and  the  sounds  in  the  air  as  sharp  and  crackling  as  artillery, 
then  in  the  morning  snow  again,  before  the  sun  could  come 
to  help. 

It  mattered  not  what  way  the  wind  was.  Often  and 
often  the  vanes  went  round,  and  we  hoped  for  change  of 
weather:  the  only  change  was  that  it  seemed  (if  possible) 
to  grow  colder.  Indeed,  after  a  week  or  so,  the  wind 
would  regularly  box  the  compass  (as  the  sailors  call  it)  in 
the  course  of  every  day,  following  where  the  sun  should 
be,  as  if  to  make  a  mock  of  him.  And  this,  of  course, 
immensely  added  to  the  peril  of  the  drifts;  because  they 
shifted  every  day,  and  no  skill  or  care  might  learn  them. 

I  believe  it  was  on  Epiphany  morning,  or  somewhere 
about  that  period,  when  Lizzie  ran  into  the  kitchen  to  me, 
where  I  was  thawing  my  goose-grease,  with  the  dogs  among 
the  ashes — the  live  dogs,  I  mean,  not  the  iron  ones,  for 
them  we  had  given  up  long  ago — and  having  caught  me, 
by  way  of  wonder  (for  generally  I  was  out  shoveling  long . 
before  my  '* young  lady"  had  her  night-cap  off),  she  posi- 
tively kissed  me,  for  the  sake  of  warming  her  lips,  perhaps, 
or  because  she  had  something  proud  to  say. 

'^  You  great  fool,  John,"  said  my  lady,  as  Annie  and  I 
used  to  call  her,  on  account  of  her  airs  and  graces;  ^'  what 
a  pity  you  never  read,  John!" 

^'Much  use,  I  should  think,  in  reading!"  I  answered, 
though  pleased  with  her  condescension;  *'read,  I  suppose, 
with  roof  coming  in,  and  only  this  chimney  left  sticking 
out  of  the  snow!" 

"  The  very  time  to  read,  John,"  said  Lizzie,  looking 
grander;  "our  worst  troubles  are  the  need,  whence  knowl- 
edge can  deliver  us." 

*'  Amen!"  I  cried  out;  "  are  you  parson  or  clerk?  Which- 
ever you  are,  good-morning. " 

Thereupon  I  was  bent  on  my  usual  round  (a  very  small 
one  nowadays),  but  Eliza  took  me  with  both  hands,  and  I 
stopped  of  course;  for  I  could  not  bear  to  shake  the  child, 
even  in  play,  for  a  moment,  because  her  back  was  tender. 
Then  she  looked  up  at  me  with  her  beautiful  eyes,  so  large. 


THE  ORE  AT  WINTER.  351 

unhealthy,  and  delicate,  and  strangely  shadowing  outward, 
as  if  to  spread  their  meaning;  and  she  said: 

'^Now,  John,  this  is  no  time  to  joke.  I  was  almost 
frozen  in  bed  last  night;  and  Annie  like  an  icicle.  Feel 
how  cold  my  hands  are.  Now,  will  you  listen  to  what  I 
have  to  read  about  climates  ten  times  worse  than  this;  and 
where  none  but  clever  men  can  live?" 

"  Impossible  for  me  to  listen  now.  I  have  hundreds  of 
things  to  see  to;  but  I  will  listen  after  breakfast  to  your 
foreign  climates,  child.  Now  attend  to  mother's  hot 
coffee." 

She  looked  a  little  disappointed,  but  she  knew  what  I 
had  to  do;  and  after  all  she  was  not  so  utterly  unreason- 
able, although  she  did  read  books.  And  when  I  had  done 
my  morning's  work,  I  listened  to  her  patiently;  and  it  was 
out  of  my  power  to  think  that  all  she  said  was  foolish. 

For  I  knew  common  sense  pretty  well  by  this  time, 
whether  it  happened  to  be  my  own  or  any  other  person's, 
if  clearly  laid  before  me.  And  Lizzie  had  a  particular  way 
of  setting  forth  very  clearly  whatever  she  wished  to  express 
and  enforce.  But  the  queerest  part  of  it  all  was  this:  That 
if  she  could  but  have  dreamed  for  a  moment  what  would 
be  the  first  application  made  by  me  of  her  lesson,  she 
would  rather  have  bitten  her  tongue  off  than  help  me  to 
my  purpose. 

She  told  me  that  in  the  "  Arctic  Regions,"  as  they  call 
some  places  a  long  way  north,  where  the  great  bear  lies 
across  the  heavens,  and  no  sun  is  up  for  whole  months  at 
a  time,  and  yet  where  people  will  go  exploring,  out  of  pure 
contradiction,  and  for  the  sake  of  novelty,  and  love  of 
being  frozen — that  here  they  always  had  such  winters  as 
we  were  having  now.  It  never  ceased  to  freeze  she  said, 
and  it  never  ceased  to  snow,  except  when  it  was  too  cold; 
and  then  all  the  air  was  choked  with  glittering  spikes,  and 
a  man's  skin  might  come  off  of  him  before  he  could  ask 
the  reason.  Nevertheless,  the  people  there  (although  the 
snow  was  fifty  feet  deep  and  all  their  breath  fell  behind 
them  frozen,  like  a  log  of  wood  dropped  from  their 
shoulders)  managed  to  get  along  and  make  the  time  of  the 
year  to  each  other,  by  a  little  cleverness.  For  seeing  how 
the  snow  was  spreading  lightly  over  everything,  covering 
up  the  hills  and  valleys,  and  the  foreskin  of  the  sea,  they 


352  LORNA  BOONK 

contrived  a  way  to  crown  it,  and  to  glide  like  a.  flake 
along.  Through  the  sparkle  of  the  whiteness,  and  the 
wreathes  of  windy  tossings,  and  the  ups  and  downs  of  cold, 
any  man  might  get  along  with  a  boat  on  either  foot  to  pre- 
vent his  sinking. 

She  told  me  how  these  boats  were  made;  very  strong 
and  very  light,  of  ribs  with  skin  across  them;  five  feet 
long  and  one  foot  wide,  and  turned  up  at  each  end,  even 
as  a  canoe  is.  But  she  did  not  tell  me,  nor  did  I  give  a 
moment^s  thought  myself,  how  hard  it  was  to  walk  upon 
them  without  early  practice.  Then  she  told  me  another 
thing  equally  useful  to  me;  although  I  would  not  let  her 
see  how  much  I  thought  about  it.  And  this  concerned 
the  use  of  sledges,  and  their  power  of  gliding,  and  the 
lightness  of  their  following;  all  of  which  I  could  see  at 
Once,  through  knowledge  of  our  farm  sleds,  which  we 
employ  in  lieu  of  wheels,  used  in  flatter  districts.  When 
I  had  heard  all  this  from  her,  a  mere  chit  of  a  girl  as  she 
was,  unfit  to  make  a  snowball  even,  or  to  fry  snow-pan- 
cakes, I  looked  down  on  her  with  amazement,  and  began 
to  wish  a  little  that  I  had  given  more  time  to  books. 

But  God  shapes  all  our  fitness,  and  gives  each  man  his 
meaning,  even  as  he  guides  the  wavering  lines  of  snow  de- 
scending. Our  Eliza  was  meant  for  books;  our  dear  Annie 
for  loving  and  cooking;  I,  John  Ridd,  for  sheep,  and 
wrestling,  and  the  thought  of  Lorna;  and  mother  to  love 
all  three  of  us,  and  to  make  the  best  of  her  children.  And 
now,  if  I  must  tell  the  truth,  as  at  every  page  I  try  to  do 
(though  God  knows  it  is  hard  enough),  I  had  felt  through 
all  this  weather,  though  my  life  was  Lorna\  something  of 
a  satisfaction  in  so  doing  duty  to  my  kindest  and  best  of 
mothers,  and  to  none  but  her.  For  (if  you  come  to  think 
of  it)  a  man's  young  love  is  very  pleasant,  very  sweet  and 
tickling;  and  takes  him  through  the  core  of  heart,  without 
his  knowing  how  or  why.  Then  he  dwells  upon  it  side- 
ways, without  people  looking,  and  builds  up  all  sorts  of 
fancies,  growing  hot  with  working  at  his  own  imaginings. 
So  his  love  is  a  crystal  goddess,  set  upon  an  obelisk;  and 
whoever  will  not  bow  the  knee  (yet  without  glancing  at 
her),  the  lover  makes  it  a  sacred  rite  either  to  kick  or  to 
stick  him.  I  am  not  speaking  of  me  and  Lorna,  but  of 
common  people. 


THE  GREAT  WINTER,  353 

Then  (if  you  come  to  think  of  it  again)  lo — or  I  will  not 
say  lo!  for  no  one  can  behold  it — only  feel,  or  but  remem- 
ber, what  a  real  mother  is.  Ever  loving,  ever  soft,  ever 
turning  sin  to  goodness,  vices  into  virtues;  blind  to  all 
nine-tenths  of  wrong;  through  a  telescope  beholding 
(though  herself  so  nigh  to  them)  faintest  decimal  of 
promise,  even  in  her  vilest  child.  Ready  to  thank  God 
again,  as  when  her  babe  was  born  to  her;  leaping  (as  at 
kingdom  come)  at  a  wandering  syllable  of  Gospel  for  her 
lost  one. 

All  this  our  mother  was  to  us,  and  even  more  than  all  of 
this;  and  hence  I  felt  a  pride  and  joy  in  doing  my  sacred 
duty  toward  her,  now  that  the  weather  compelled  me. 
And  she  was  as  grateful  and  delighted  as  if  she  had  no 
more  claim  upon  me  than  a  stranger's  sheep  might  have. 
Yet  from  time  to  time  I  groaned  within  myself  and  by  myself 
at  thinking  of  my  sad  debarment  from  the  sight  of  Lorna, 
and  of  all  that  might  have  happened  to  her,  now  she  had 
no  protection. 

Therefore  I  fell  to  at  once,  upon  that  hint  from  Lizzie; 
and  being  used  to  thatching-work,  and  the  making  of 
traps,  and  so  on,  before  very  long  I  built  myself  a  pair  of 
strong  and  light  snow-shoes,  framed  with  ash  and  ribbed 
of  withy,  with  half-tanned  calf-skin  stretched  across,  and 
an  inner  sole  to  support  my  feet.  At  first  I  could  not  walk 
at  all,  but  floundered  about  most  piteously,  catching  one 
shoe  in  the  other,  and  both  of  them  in  the  snow-drifts,  to 
the  great  amusement  of  the  girls,  who  were  come  to  look  at 
me.  But  after  a  while  I  grew  more  expert,  discovering 
what  my  errors  were,  and  altering  the  inclination  of  the 
shoes  themselves  according  to  a  print  which  Lizzie  found 
in  a  book  of  adventures.  And  this  made  such  a  difference, 
tliat  I  crossed  the  farm-yard  and  came  back  again  (though 
turning  was  the  worst  thing  of  all)  without  so  much  as 
fulling  once,  or  getting  my  staff  entangled. 

Bat  oh,  the  aching  of  my  ankles  when  I  went  to  bed  at 
night!  I  was  forced  to  help  myself  upstairs  with  a  couple 
of  mop-sticks;  and  I  rubbe'  the  joints  with  neatsfoot  oil, 
which  comforted  them  greatly.  And  likely  enough  I 
would  have  aban:lojied  any  further  trial,  but  for  Lizzie's 
ridicule  and  pretended  sympathy,  asking  if  the  strong  John 
ilidd  would  have  old  Betty  to  lean  upon.     Therefore  I  set 


354  LOIiNA  DOONE, 

to  again,  with  a  fixed  resolve  not  to  notice  pain  or  stiffness, 
but  warm  them  out  of  me.  And  sure  enough  before  dark 
that  day  I  could  get  along  pretty  freely:  especially  improv- 
ing every  time,  after  leaving  off  and  resting.  The  aston- 
ishment of  poor  Jolin  Fry,  Bill  Dadds  and  Jem  Slocombe, 
when  they  saw  me  coming  down  the  hill  upon  them  in  the 
twilight,  where  they  were  clearing  the  furze-rick  and  truss- 
ing it  for  cattle,  was  more  than  I  can  tell  you;  because  they 
did  not  let  me  see  it,  but  ran  away  with  one  accord,  and 
floundered  into  a  snow-drift.  They  believed,  and  so  did 
every  one  else  (especially  when  I  grew  able  to  glide  along 
pretty  rapidly),  that  I  had  stolen  Mother  Melldrum's  sieves, 
on  wliich  she  was  said  to  fly  over  the  foreland  at  midnight 
every  Saturday. 

Upon  the  following  day  I  held  some  council  with  my 
mother;  not  liking  to  go  without  her  permission,  yet 
scarcely  daring  to  ask  for  it.  But  here  she  disappointed 
me,  on  the  right  side  of  disappointment;  saying  that  she 
had  seen  my  pining  (which  she  never  could  have  done, 
because  I  had  been  too  hard  at  work),  and  rather  than 
watch  me  grieving  so  for  somebody  or  other  who  now  was 
all  in  all  to  me,  I  might  go  upon  my  course,  and  God's 
protection  go  with  me!  At  this  I  was  amazed,  because  it 
was  not  at  all  like  mother;  and  knowing  how  well  I  had 
behaved  ever  since  the  time  of  our  snowing  up,  I  was  a 
little  moved  to  tell  her  that  she  could  not  understand  me. 
However,  my  sense  of  duty  kept  me,  and  my  knowledge  of 
the  catechism,  from  saying  such  a  thing  as  that,  or  even 
thinking  twice  of  it.  And  so  I  took  her  at  her  word, 
which  she  was  not  prepared  for;  and  telling  her  how  proud 
I  was  of  her  trust  in  Providence,  and  how  I  could  run  in 
my  new  snow-shoes,  I  took  a  short  pipe  in  my  mouth,  and 
started  forth  accordingly. 


NOT  TOO  BOON,  355 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

NOT  TOO   SOON. 

When  I  started  on  my  road  across  the  hills  and  valleys 
(which  now  were  pretty  much  alike),  the  utmost  I  could 
hope  to  do  was  to  gain  the  crest  of  hills,  and  look  into  the 
Doone  Glen.  Hence  I  might  at  least  descry  whether 
Lorna  still  was  safe,  by  the  six  nests  still  remaining,  and 
the  view  of  the  Captain's  house.  When  I  was  come  to  the 
open  country,  far  beyond  the  sheltered  homestead,  and  in 
the  full  brunt  of  the  wind,  the  keen  blast  of  the  cold  broke 
on  me,  and  the  mighty  breadth  of  snow.  Moor  and  high- 
land, field  and  common,  cliff  and  vale  and  watercourse, 
over  all  the  rolling  folds  of  misty  white  were  flung.  There 
was  nothing  square  or  jagged  left,  there  was  nothing  per- 
pendicular; all  the  rugged  lines  were  eased,  and  all  the 
breaches  smoothly  filled.  Curves,  and  mounds,  and 
rounded  heavings  took  the  place  of  rock  and  stump;  and 
all  the  country  looked  as  if  a  woman's  hand  had  been 
on  it. 

Through  the  sparkling  breadth  of  white,  which  seemed 
to  glance  my  eyes  away,  and  past  the  humps  of  laden  trees, 
bowing  their  backs  like  a  woodman,  I  contrived  to  get 
along,  half  sliding  and  half  walking,  in  places  where  a 
plain-shodden  man  must  have  sunk,  and  waited  freezing, 
till  the  thaw  should  come  to  him.  For  although  there  had 
been  such  violent  frost  every  night  upon  the  snow,  the 
snow  itself,  having  never  thawed,  even  an  hour,  had  never 
coated  over.  Hence  it  was  as  soft  and  light  as  if  all  had 
fallen  yesterday.  In  places  where  no  drift  had  been,  but 
rather  off  than  on  to  them,  three  feet  was  the  least  of 
depth;  but  where  the  wind  had  chased  it  round,  or  any 
draught  led  like  a  funnel,  or  anything  opposed  it,  there 
you  might  very  safely  say  that  it  ran  up  to  twenty  feet,  or 
thirty,  or  even  fifty  and  I  believe  sometimes  a  hundred. 


356  LORNA  BOONE, 

At  last  I  got  to  my  spy-hill  (as  I  had  begun  to  call  it), 
although  I  never  should  have  known  it  but  for  what  it 
looked  on.  And  even  to  know  this  last  again  required  all 
the  eyes  of  love,  soever  sharp  and  vigilant.  For  all  the 
beautiful  Glen  Doone  (shaped  from  out  the  mountains,  as 
if  on  purpose  for  the  Doones,  and  looking  in  the  summer- 
time like  a  sharp  cut  vase  of  green)  now  was  besnowed  half 
up  the  sides,  and  at  either  ejid  so,  that  it  was  more  like  the 
white  basins  wherein  we  boil  plum-puddings.  Not  a  patch 
of  grass  was  there,  not  a  black  branch  of  a  tree;  all  was 
white;  and  the  little  river  flowed  beneath  an  arch  of  snow, 
if  it  managed  to  flow  at  all. 

Now  this  was  a  great  surprise  to  me;  not  only  because  I 
believed  Glen  Dooue  to  be  a  place  outside  all  frost,  but  also 
because  I  thought  perhaps  that  it  was  quite  impossible  to 
be  cold  near  Lorna.  And  now  it  struck  me  all  at  once  that 
perhaps  her  ewer  was  frozen  (as  mine  had  been  for  the  last 
three  weeks,  requiring  embers  around  it),  and  perhaps  her 
window  would  not  shut,  any  more  than  mine  would,  and 
perhaps  she  wanted  blankets.  This  idea  worked  me  up  to 
such  a  chill  of  sympathy,  that  seeing  no  Doones  now  about, 
and  doubting  if  any  guns  would  go  off  in  this  state  of  the 
weather,  and  knowing  that  no  man  could  catch  me  up  (ex- 
cept with  shoes  like  mine),  I  even  resolved  to  slide  the 
cliffs,  and  bravely  go  to  Lorna. 

It  helped  me  much  in  this  resolve,  that  the  snow  came 
on  again,  thick  enough  to  blind  a  man  who  had  not  spent 
his  time  among  it,  as  I  had  done  now  for  days  and  days. 
Therefore  I  took  my  neatsfoot  oil,  which  now  was  clogged 
like  honey,  and  rubbed  it  hard  into  my  leg-joints.,  so  far  as 
I  could  reach  them.  And  then  I  set  my  back  and  elbows  well 
against  a  snow-drift  hanging  far  adown  the  cliff,  and  say- 
ing some  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  threw  myself  on  Providence. 
Before  there  was  time  to  think  or  dream,  I  landed  very 
beautifully  upon  a  ridge  of  run-up  snow  in  a  quiet  corner. 
My  good  shoes,  or  boots,  preserved  me  from  going  far  be- 
neath it;  though  one  of  them  was  sadly  strained,  where  a 
grub  had  gnawed  the  ash  in  the  early  summer-time. 
Having  set  myself  aright,  and  being  in  good  spirits,  I  made 
boldly  across  the  valley  (where  the  snow  was  furrowed 
hard),  being  now  afraid  oi  nobody. 

If  Lorna  had  looked  out  of  the  window,  she  would  not 


NOT  TOO  SOON,  357 

have  known  me,  with  those  boots  upon  my  feet,  ^nd  a 
well-cleaned  sheep-skin  over  me,  bearing  my  own  (J.  R) 
in  red  just  between  my  shoulders,  but  covered  now  in 
snow  flakes.  The  house  was  partly  drifted  up,  though  not 
so  much  as  ours  was;  and  I  crossed  the  little  stream  almost 
without  knowing  that  it  was  under  me.  At  first,  being 
pretty  safe  against  interference  from  the  other  huts,  by 
virtue  of  the  blinding  snow  and  the  difficulty  of  walking, 
I  examined  all  the  windows;  but  these  were  coated  so  with 
ice,  like  ferns,  and  flowers,  and  dazzling  stars,  that  no  one 
could  so  much  as  guess  what  might  be  inside  of  them. 
Moreover,  I  was  afraid  of  prying  narrowly  into  them,  as  it 
was  not  a  proper  thing  where  a  maiden  might  be:  only  1 
wanted  to  know  just  this,  whether  she  were  there  or  not. 

Taking  nothing  by  this  movement,  I  was  forced,  much 
against  my  will,  to  venture  to  the  door  and  knock  in  a 
hesitating  manner,  not  being  sure  but  what  my  answer 
might  be  the  mouth  of  a  carbine.  However,  it  was  not  so; 
for  I  heard  a  pattering  of  feet  and  a  whispering  going  on, 
and'  then  a  shrill  voice  through  the  key-hole  asking, 
*'  Who's  there?'' 

**Only  me,  John  Ridd,"  I  answered;  upon  which  I 
heard  a  little  laughter,  and  a  little  sobbing,  or  something 
that  was  like  it;  and  then  the  door  was  opened  about  a 
couple  of  inches,  with  a  bar  behind  it  still;  and  then  tha 
little  voice  went  on: 

*'  Put  thy  finger  in  young  man,  with  the  old  ring  on  it. 
But  mind  thee,  if  it  be  the  wrong  one,  thou  shalt  never 
draw  it  back  again." 

Laughing  at  Gwenny's  mighty  threat,  1  showed  my 
finger  in  the  opening;  upon  winch  she  let  me  in,  and  barred 
the  door  again  like  lightning. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this,  Gwenny?"  I  asked, 
as  I  slipped  about  on  the  floor,  for  I  could  not  stand  there 
firmly  with  my  great  snow-shoes  on. 

*'  Maning  enough,  and  bad  maning  too,"  the  Cornish 
girl  made  answer.  "Us  be  shut  in  here,  and  starving,  and 
durstn'fe  let  anybody  in  upon  us.  I  wish  thou  wer't  good 
to  ate,  young  man:  I  could  manage  most  of  thee." 

I  was  so  frightened  by  her  eyes,  full  of  wolfish  hunger, 
that  I  could  only  say,  "Good  God!"  having  never  seen  the 
like  before.     Then  drew  I  forth  a  large  piece  of  bread. 


358  LORNA  DOONE, 

which  I  had  brought  in  case  of  accidents,  and  placed  it  in 
her  hands.  She  leaped  at  it  as  a  starving  dog  leaps  at 
sight  of  his  supper,  and  she  set  her  teeth  in  it,  and  then 
witheld  it  from  her  lips  with  something  very  like  an  oath 
at  her  own  vile  greediness;  and  then  away  around  the 
corner  with  it,  no  doubt  for  her  young  mistress.  I  mean- 
while was  occupied,  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  in  taking  my 
snow-shoes  off,  yet  wondering  much  within  myself  why 
Lorna  did  not  come  to  me. 

But  presently  I  knew  the  cause;  for  Gwenny  called  me, 
and  I  ran,  and  found  my  darling  quite  unable  to  say  so 
much  as,  "John,  how  are  you?'*  Between  the  hunger, 
and  the  cold,  and  the  excitement  of  my  coming,  she  had 
fainted  away,  and  lay  back  on  a  chair,  as  white  as  the 
snow  around  us.  In  betwixt  her  delicate  lips  Gwenny  was 
thrusting  with  all  her  strength  the  hard  brown  crust  of  the 
rye  bread  which  she  had  snatched  from  me  so. 

"Get  water,  or  get  snow,"  I  said;  "don't  you  know 
what  fainting  is,  you  very  stupid  child?*' 

"  Never  heered  on  it  in  Carnwall,  she  answered,  trusting 
still  to  the  bread;  "  be  un  the  same  as  bleeding?" 

"  It  will  be  directly,  if  you  go  on  squeezing  away  with 
that  crust  so.  Eat  a  piece:  I  have  got  some  more.  Leave 
my  darling  now  to  me." 

Hearing  that  I  had  some  more,  the  starving  girl  could 
resist  no  longer,  but  tore  it  in  two,  and  had  swallowed  half 
before  I  had  coaxed  my  Lorna  back  to  sense,  and  hope, 
and  joy,  and  love. 

"  I  never  expected  to  see  you  again.  I  had  made  up  my 
mind  to  die,  John,  and  to  die  without  your  knowing  it." 

As  I  repelled  this  fearful  thought  in  a  manner  highly 
fortifying,  the  tender  hue  flowed  back  again  into  her 
famished  cheeks  and  lips,  and  a  softer  brilliance  glistened 
from  the  depth  of  her  dark  eyes.  She  gave  me  one  little 
shrunken  hand,  and  I  could  not  help  a  tear  for  it. 

"After  all.  Mistress  Lorna,"  I  said,  pretending  to  be 
gay,  for  a  smile  might  do  her  good,  "you  do  not  love  me 
as  Gwenny  does;  for  she  even  wanted  to  eat  me." 

"  And  shall,  afore  I  have  done,  young  man,"  Gwenny 
answered,  laughing;  "you  come  in  here  with  they  red 
chakes,  and  makes  us  think  o'  sirloin." 

"  Eat  up  your  bit  of  brown  bread,  Gwenny.     It  is  not 


NOT  TOO  SOON.  359 

good  enough  for  your  mistress.  Bless  her  heart,  I  have 
something  here  such  as  she  never  tasted  the  like  of,  being 
in  such  appetite.  Look  here,  Lorna;  smell  it  first.  I 
have  had  it  ever  since  Twelfth-day,  and  kept  it  all  the 
time  for  you.  Annie  made  it.  That  is  enough  to  warrant 
it  good  cooking." 

And  then  I  showed  my  great  mince-pie  in  a  bag  of  tis- 
sue-paper, and  I  told  them  how  the  mince-meat  was  made 
of  golden  pippins  finely  shred,  with  the  under-cut  of  the 
sirloin,  and  spice  and  fruit  accordingly,  and  far  beyond  my 
knowledge.  But  Lorna  would  not  touch  a  morsel  until  she 
had  thanked  God  for  it,  and  given  me  the  kindest  kiss, 
and  put  a  piece  in  Gwenny's  mouth. 

I  have  eaten  many  things  myself,  with  very  great  enjoy- 
ment, and  keen  perception  of  their  merits,  and  some 
thanks  to  God  for  them.  But  I  never  did  enjoy  a  thing 
that  had  found  its  way  between  my  own  lips  half  or  even  a 
quarter  as  much  as  I  now  enjoyed  beholding  Lorna,  sitting 
proudly  upward  (to  show  that  she  was  faint  no  more), 
entering  into  that  mince-pie,  and  moving  all  her  pearls  of 
teeth  (inside  her  little  mouth-place)  exactly  as  I  told  her. 
For  I  was  afraid  lest  she  should  be  too  fast  in  going  through 
it,  and  cause  herself  more  damage  so  than  she  got  of  nour- 
ishment. But  I  had  no  to  need  fear  at  all,  and  Lorna  could 
not  help  laughing  at  me  for  thinking  that  she  had  no  self 
control. 

Some  creatures  require  a  deal  of  food  (I  myself  among 
the  number),  and  some  can  do  with  a  very  little;  making, 
no  doubt,  the  best  of  it.  And  I  have  often  noticed  that 
the  plumpest  and  most  perfect  women  never  eat  so  hard 
and  fast  as  the  skinny  and  three-cornered  ones.  These  last 
be  often  ashamed  of  it,  and  eat  most  when  the  men  be 
absent.  Hence  it  came  to  pass  that  Lorna,  being  the 
loveliest  pf  all  maidens,  had  as  much  as  she  could  do  to 
finish  her  own  half  a  pie;  whereas  Gwenny  Carfax  (though 
generous  more  than  greedy)  ate  up  hers  without  winking, 
after  finishing  the  brown  loaf;  and  then  I  begged  to  kj^ow 
the  meaning  of  this  state  of  things. 

''The  meaning  is  sad  enough,"  said  Lorna;  ''and  I  see 
no  way  out  of  it.  We  are  both  to  be  starved  until  I  let 
them  do  what  they  liked  with  me." 

"  That  is  to  say,  until  you  choose  to  marry  Carver  Doone. 
and  be  slowly  killed  by  him." 


360  LORNA  BOONE, 

''  Slowly!  No,  John,  quickly.  I  hate  him  so  intensely, 
that  less  than  a  week  would  kill  me" 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  that,"  said  Gwenny :  "oh,  she  hates  him 
nicely  then:  but  not  half  so  much  as  I  do.'* 

I  told  them  both  that  this  state  of  things  could  be  en- 
dured no  longer;  on  which  point  they  agreed  with  me, 
but  saw  no  means  to  help  it.  For  even  if  Lorna  could 
make  up  her  mind  to  come  away  with  me  and  live  at 
Plovers  Barrows  farm,  under  my  good  mother's  care,  as  I 
had  urged  so  often,  behold  the  snow  was  all  around  us, 
heaped  as  high  as  mountains;  and  how  could  any  delicate 
maiden  ever  get  across  it? 

Then  I  spoke,  with  a  strange  tingle  upon  both  sides  of 
my  heart,  knowing  that  this  undertaking  was  a  serious  one 
for  all,  and  might  burn  our  farm  down. 

"  If  I  warrant  to  take  you  safe,  and  without  much  fright 
or  hardship,  Lorna,  will  yon  come  with  me?" 

*'  To  be  sure  I  will,  dear,"  said  my  beauty,  with  a  smile, 
and  a  glance  to  follow  it;  "I  have  small  alternative — to 
starve,  or  go  with  you,  John." 

"  Gwenny,  have  you  courage  for  it?  Will  you  come  with 
your  young  mistress?" 

'*WillI  stay  behind?"  cried  Gwenny,  in  a  voice  that 
settled  it.  And  so  we  began  to  arrange  about  it;  and  I 
was  much  excited.  It  was  useless  now  to  leave  it  longer: 
if  it  could  be  done  at  all,  it  could  not  be  too  quickly  done. 
It  was  the  Counselor  who  had  ordered  after  all  other 
schemes  had  failed,  that  his  niece  should  have  no  food  until 
she  would  obey  him.  He  had  strictly  watched  the  house, 
taking  turns  with  Carver,  to  insure  that  none  came  nigh  it 
bearing  food  or  comfort.  But  this  evening  they  had 
thought  it  needless  to  remain  on  guard;  and  it  would  have 
been  impossible,  because  themselves  were  busy  offering  high 
festival  to  all  the  valley,  in  right  of  their  own  com- 
mandership.  A.nd  Gwenny  said  that  nothing  made  her  so 
nearly  mad  with  appetite  as  the  account  she  received  from 
a  woman  of  all  dishes  preparing.  Nevertheless,  she  had 
answered  bravely: 

*'Go  and  tell  the  Counselor,  and  go  and  tell  the  Carver, 
who  sent  you  to  spy  upon  us,  that  we  shall  have  a  finer 
dish  than  any  set  before  them."  And  so,  in  truth,  they 
did,  although  so  little  dreaming  it;  for  no  Doone  that  wag 


NOT  TOO  SOON.  361 

ever  born,  however  much  of  a  Carver,  might  vie  with  our 
Annie  for  mince-meat. 

Now  while  we  sat,  reflecting  much,  and  talking  a  good 
deal  more,  in  spite  of  all  the  cold — for  I  never  was  in  a 
hurry  to  go,  when  I  had  Lorna  with  me — she  said,  in  her 
silvery  voice,  which  always  led  me  so  along,  as  if  I  were 
slave  to  a  beautiful  bell: 

*' Now,  John,  we  are  wasting  time,  dear.  You  have 
praised  my  hair  till  it  curls  with  pride,  and  my  eyes  till 
you  cannot  see  them,  even  if  they  are  brown  diamonds, 
which  I  have  heard  for  the  fiftieth  time  at  least;  though  I 
never  saw  such  a  jewel.  Don't  you  think  that  it  is  high 
time  to  put  on  your  snow-shoes,  John?" 

"  Certainly  not,"  I  answored,  *'  till  we  have  settled  some- 
thing more.  I  was  so  cold  when  I  came  in;  and  now  I  am 
as  warm  as  a  cricket.  And  so  are  you,  you  lively  soul; 
though  you  are  not  upon  my  hearth  yet." 

"Remember,  John,"  said  Lorna,  nestling  for  a  moment 
to  me;  *'  the  severity  of  the  weather  makes  a  great  differ- 
ence between  us.     And  you  must  never  take  advantage." 

*^I  quite  understand  all  that,  dear.  And  the  harder  it 
freezes  the  better,  while  that  understanding  continues. 
Now  do  try  to  be  serious." 

**  I  try  to  be  serious!  And  I  have  been  trying  fifty  times, 
and  could  not  bring  you  to  it,  John!  Although  I  am  sure 
the  situation,  as  the  Counselor  always  says,  at  the  begin- 
ning of  a  speech,  the  situation,  to  say  the  least,  is  serious 
enough  for  anything.     Come,  Gwenny,  imitate  him." 

Gwenny  was  famed  for  her  imitation  of  the  Counselor 
making  a  speech;  and  she  began  to  shake  her  hair,  and 
mount  upon  a  footstool;  but  I  really  could  not  have  this, 
though  even  Lorna  ordered  it.  The  truth  was  that  my 
darling  maiden  was  in  such  wild  spirits  at  seeing  me  so  un- 
expected, and  at  the  prospect  of  release,  and  of  what  she 
had  never  known,  quiet  life  and  happiness,  that,  like  all 
warm  and  loving  natures,  she  could  scarce  control  herself. 

"  Come  to  this  frozen  window,  John,  and  see  them  light 
the  stack-fire.  They  will  little  know  who  looks  at  them. 
Now  be  very  good,  John.  You  stay  in  that  corner,  dear, 
and  I  will  stand  on  this  side;  and  try  to  breathe  yourself  a 
peep-hole  through  the  lovely  spears  and  banners.  Oh,  you 
don't  know  how  to  do  it,    I  must  do  it  for  you.     Breathe 


362  LOHNA  DOONE. 

three  times  like  that,  and  that;  and  tlien  you  rub  it  with 
your  fingers  before  it  has  time  to  freeze  again." 

All  this  she  did  so  beautifully,  with  her  lips  put  up  like 
cherries,  and  her  fingers  bent  half  back,  as  only  girls  can 
bend  them,  and  her  little  waist  thrown  out  against  the 
white  of  the  snowed-up  window,  that  I  made  her  do  it 
three  times  over;  and  I  stopped  her  every  time,  and  let  it 
freeze  again,  that  so  she  might  be  the  longer.  Now  I 
knew  that  all  her  love  was  mine,  every  bit  as  much  as 
mine  was  hers;  yet  I  must  have  her  to  show  it,  dwelling 
upon  every  proof,  lengthening  out  all  certainty.  Perhaps 
the  jealous  heart  is  loath  to  own  a  life  worth  twice  its 
own.  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  know  that  we  thawed  the 
window  nicely. 

And  then  I  saw  far  down  the  stream  (or  rather  down 
the  bed  of  it,  for  there  was  no  stream  visible),  a  little  form 
of  fire  arising,  red,  and  dark,  and  flickering.  Presently  it 
caught  on  something,  and  went  upward  boldly;  and 
then  it  struck  into  many  forks,  and  then  it  fell,  and  rose 
again. 

^*  Do  you  know  what  all  that  is,  John?"  asked  Lorna, 
smiling  cleverly  at  the  manner  of  my  staring. 

**How  on  earth  should  I  know?  Papists  burn  Prot- 
estants in  the  flesh;  and  Protestants  burn  Papists  in  effigy, 
as  we  mock  them.  Lorna,  are  they  going  to  burn  anyone 
to-night?" 

"No,  you  dear.  I  must  rid  you  of  these  things.  I 
see  that  you  are  bigoted.  The  Doones  are  firing  Dunkery 
beacon,  to  celebrate  their  new  captain." 

"But  how  could  they  bring  it  here  through  the  snow? 
If  they  have  sledges,  I  can  do  nothing." 

"  They  brought  it  before  the  snow  began.  The  moment 
poor  grandfather  was  gone,  even  before  his  funeral,  the 
young  men,  having  none  to  check  them,  began  at  once 
upon  it.  They  had  always  borne  a  grudge  against  it;  not 
that  it  ever  did  them  harm,  but  because  it  seemed  so  insolent. 
*  Can't  a  gentleman  go  home  without  a  smoke  behind 
him?'  I  have  often  heard  them  saying.  And  though  they 
have  done  it  no  serious  harm,  since  they  threw  the  firemen 
on  the  fire  many,  many  years  ago,  they  have  often  prom- 
ised to  bring  it  here  for  their  candle;  and  now  they  have 
done  it.    Ah,  now  look!    The  tar  is  kindled," 


not  TOO  SOON,  363 

Though  Lorna  took  it  so  in  joke,  I  looked  upon  it  very 
gravely,  knowing  that  this  heavy  outrage  to  the  feelings 
of  the  neighborhood  would  cause  more  stir  than  a  hun- 
dred sheep  stolen,  or  a  score  of  houses  sacked.  Not,  of 
course,  that  the  beacon  was  of  the  smallest  use  to  anyone, 
neither  stopped  anybody  from  stealing;  nay,  rather  it  was 
like  the  parish  knell,  which  begins  when  all  is  over,  and 
depresses  all  the  survivors;  yet  I  knew  that  we  valued  it, 
and  were  proud,  and  spoke  of  it  as  a  mighty  institution; 
and  even  more  tlian  that,  our  vestry  had  voted,  within  the 
last  two  years,  seven  shillings  and  sixpence  to  pay  for  it,  in 
proportion  with  other  parishes.  And  one  of  the  men  who 
attended  to  it,  or  at  least  who  was  paid  for  doing  so,  was 
our  Jem  Slocombe's  grandfather. 

However,  in  spite  of  all  my  regrets,  the  fire  went  up 
very  merrily,  blazing  red  and  white  and  yellow,  as  it 
leaped  on  different  things.  And  the  light  danced  on  the 
snow-drifts  with  a  misty  lilac  hue.  I  was  astonished  at  its 
burning  in  such  mighty  depths  of  snow,  but  Gwenny  said 
tliat  the  wicked  men  had  been  three  days  hard  at  work, 
clearing,  as  it  were,  a  cock-pit  for  their  fire  to  have  its  way. 
And  now  they  had  a  mighty  pile,  which  must  have  covered 
five  larid-yards  square,  heaped  up  to  a  goodly  height,  and 
eager  to  take  fire. 

In  this  I  saw  great  obstacle  to  what  I  wished  to  manage. 
For  when  this  pyramid  should  be  kindled  thoroughly, 
and  pouring  light  and  blazes  round,  would  not  all  the 
valley  be  like  a  white  room  full  of  candles?  Thinking 
thus,  I  was  half  inclined  to  abide  my  time  for  another 
night;  and  then  my  second  thoughts  convinced  me  tliat  I 
would  be  a  fool  in  this.  For  lo,  what  an  opportunity! 
All  the  Doones  would  be  drunk,  of  course,  in  about  three 
hours'  time,  and  getting  more  and  more  in  drink  as  the 
night  went  on.  As  for  the  fire,  it  must  sink  in  about  three 
hours  or  more,  and  only  cast  uncertain  shadows  friendly  to 
my  purpose.  And  then  the  outlaws  must  cower  round  it 
as  the  cold  increased  on  them,  helping  the  weight  of  the 
liquor;  and  in  their  jollity  any  noise  would  be  cheered  as  a 
false  alarm.  Most  of  all,  and  which  decided  once  for  all 
my  action,  when  these  wild  and  reckless  villains  should  be 
hot  with  ardent  spirits,  what  was  door  or  wall  to  stand  be- 
twixt them  and  my  Lorna? 


364  LORl<fA  BOONS!. 

This  thought  quickened  me  so  much  that  I  touched  my 
darling  reverently,  and  told  her  in  a  few  short  words  how 
I  hoped  to  manage  it. 

**  Sweetest,  in  two  hours'  time,  I  shall  be  again  with 
you.  Keep  the  bar  up,  and  have  Gwenny  ready  to  answer 
any  one.  You  are  safe  while  they  are  dining,  dear,  and 
drinking  healths,  and  all  that  stuff;  and  before  they  have 
done  with  that,  I  shall  be  again  with  you.  Have  every 
thing  you  care  to  take  in  a  very  little  compass;  and -Gwenny 
must  have  no  baggage.  I  shall  knock  loud,  and  then  wait 
a  little:  and  then  knock  twice  very  softly.'' 

With  this  I  folded  her  in  my  arms,  and' she  looked  fright- 
ened at  me,  not  having  perceived  her  danger;  and  then  I 
told  Gwenny  over  again  what  I  had  told  her  mistress;  but 
she  only  nodded  her  head,  and  said,  "  Young  man,  go  and 
teach  thy  grandmother." 


^RO  UQHT  HOME  AT  LAST.  366 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

BROUGHT  HOME  AT  LAST. 

To  MY  great  delight,  I  found  that  the  weather,  not  often 
friendly  to  lovers,  and  lately  seeming  so  hostile,  had  in  the 
most  important  matter  done  me  a  signal  service.  For 
when  I  had  promised  to  take  my  love  from  the  power  of 
those  wretches,  the  only  way  of  escape  apparent  lay  through 
the  main  Doone-gate.  For  though  I  might  climb  the  cliffs 
myself,  especially  with  the  snow  to  aid  me,  I  durst  not  try 
to  fetch  Lorna  up  them,  even  if  she  were  not  half-starved, 
as  well  as  partly  frozen;  and  as  for  Gwenny's  door,  as  we 
called  it  (that  is  to  say,  the  little  entrance  from  the  wooded 
hollow),  it  was  snowed  up  long  ago  to  the  level  of  the  hills 
around.  Therefore  I  was  at  my  wit's  end  how  to  get  them 
out,  the  passage  by  the  Doone-gate  being  long,  and  dark, 
and  difficult,  and  leading  to  such  a  weary  circuit  among 
the  snowy  moors  and  hills. 

But  now,  being  homeward  bound  by  the  shortest  possible 
track,  I  slipped  along  between  the  bonfire  and  the  boundary 
cliffs,  where  I  found  a  caved  way  of  snow  behind  a  sort  of 
avalanche:  so  that  if  the  Doones  had  been  keeping  watch 
(which  they  were  not  doing,  but  reveling)  they  could 
scarcely  have  discovered  me.  And  when  I  came  to  my 
old  ascent,  where  I  had  often  scaled  the  cliff  and  made 
across  the  mountains,  it  struck  me  that  I  would  just  have 
a  look  at  my  first  and  painful  entrance,  to-wit,  the  water- 
slide.  I  never  for  a  moment  imagined  that  this  could  help 
me  now;  for  I  never  had  dared  to  descend  it,  even  in  the 
finest  weather;  still,  I  had  a  curiosity  to  know  what  my 
old  friend  was  like,  with  so  much  snow  upon  him.  But, 
to  my  very  great  surprise,  there  was  scarcely  any  snow 
there  at  all,  though  plenty  curling  high  overheard  from 
the  cliff,  like  bolsters  over  it.  Probably  the  sweeping  of 
the  northeast  wind  up  the  narrow  chasm  had  kept  the 


366  LORNA  nOONE, 

showers  from  blocking  it,  although  the  water  had  no  power 
under  the  bitter  grip  of  frost.  All  my  water-slide  was  now 
less  a  slide  than  path  of  ice;  furrowed  where  the  waters 
ran  over  fluted  ridges;  seamed  where  wind  had  tossed  and 
combed  them,  even  while  congealing;  and  crossed  with 
little  steps  wherever  the  freezing  torrent  lingered.  And 
here  and  there  the  ice  was  fibered  with  the  trail  of  sludge- 
weed,  slanting  from  the  side,  and  matted,  so  as  to  make 
resting-place. 

Lo,  it  was  easy  track  and  channel,  as  if  for  the  very  pur- 
pose made,  down  which  I  could  guide  my  sledgej,  with 
Lorna  sitting  in  it.  There  were  only  two  things  to  be 
feared;  one  lest  the  rolls  of  snow  above  should  fall  in  and 
bury  us;  the  other  lest  we  should  rush  too  fast,  and  so  be 
carried  headlong  into  the  black  whirlpool  at  the  bottom, 
the  middle  of  which  was  still  unfrozen,  and  looking  more 
horrible  by  the  contrast.  Against  this  danger  I  made  pro- 
vision, by  fixing  a  stout  bar  across;  but  of  the  other  we 
must  take  our  chance,  and  trust  ourselves  to  Providence. 

I  hastened  home  at  my  utmost  speed,  and  told  my  mother 
for  God's  sake  to  keep  the  house  up  till  my  return,  and  to 
have  plenty  of  fire  blazing,  and  plenty  of  water  boiling, 
and  food  enough  hot  for  a  dozen  people,  and  the  best  bed 
aired  with  the  warming  pan.  Dear  mother  smiled  softly  at 
my  excitement,  though  her  own  was  not  much  less,  I  am 
sure,  and  enhanced  by  sore  anxiety.  Then  ,1  gave  very  strict 
directions  to  Annie,  and  praised  her  a  little,  and  kissed 
her;  and  I  even  endeavored  to  flatter  Eliza,  lest  she  should 
be  disagreeable. 

After  this  I  took  some  brandy,  both  within  and  about 
me;  the  former,  because  I  had  sharp  work  to  do;  and  the 
latter  in  fear  of  whatever  might  happen,  in  such  great  cold, 
to  my  comrades.  Also  I  carried  some  other  provisions, 
grieving  much  at  their  coldness;  and  then  I  went  to  the 
upper  linhay,  and  took  our  new  light  pony-sled,  which  had 
been  made  almost  as  much  for  pleasure  as  for  business; 
though  God  only  knows  how  our  girls  could  have  found  any 
pleasure  in  bumping  along  so.  On  the  snow,  however,  it 
ran  as  sweetly  as  if  it  had  been  made  for  it;  yet  I  durst  not 
take  the  pony  with  it;  in  the  first  place,  because  his  hoofs 
would  break  through  the  ever-shifting  surface  of  the  light 
and  piling  snow;    and  secondly,    because    those   ponies, 


BRO  UOBT  HOME  A  T  LAST.  gO? 

coming  from  the  forest,  have  a  dreadful  trick  of  neighing, 
and  most  of  all  in  frosty  weather. 

Therefore  I  girded  my  own  body  with  a  dozen  turns  of 
hay-rope,  twisting  both  the  ends  in  under  at  the  bottom  of 
my  breast,  and  winding  the  hay  on  the  skew  a  little,  that 
the  hempen  thong  might  not  slip  between,  and  so  cut  me 
in  the  drawing.  I  put  a  good  piece  of  spare  rope  in  the 
sled,  and  the  cross-seat  with  the  back  to  it,  which  was 
stuffed  with  our  own  wool,  as  well  as  two  or  three  fur-coats: 
and  then,  just  as  I  was  starting,  out  came  Annie,  in  spite 
of  the  cold,  panting  for  fear  of  missing  me,  and  with  noth- 
ing oft  her  head,  but  a  lantern  in  one  hand. 

*'  Oh,  John,  here  is  the  most  wonderful  thing!  Mother 
has  never  shown  it  before;  and  I  can't  think  how  slio 
could  make  up  her  mind.  She  had  gotten  it  in  a  great 
well  of  a  cupboard,  with  camphor,  and  spirits,  and  lavender. 
Lizzie  says  it  is  a  most  magnificent  seal-skin  cloak,  worth 
fifty  pounds,  or  a  farthing." 

"  At  any  rate,  it  is  soft  and  warm,"  said  I,  very  calmly 
flinging  it  into  the  bottom  of  the  sled.  *'  Tell  mother  I 
will  put  it  over  Lorna's  feet." 

**  Lorna's  feet!  Oh  you  great  fool!"  cried  Annie,  for  the 
first  time  reviling  me:  *'over  her  shoulders;  and  be  proud, 
you  very  stupid  John." 

"  It  is  not  good  enough  for  her  feet;"  I  answered,  with 
strong  emphasis;  **  but  don't  tell  mother  I  said  so,  Annie. 
Only  thank  her  very  kindly." 

With  that  I  drew  my  traces  hard,  and  set  my  ashen  staff 
into  the  snow,  and  struck  out  with  my  best  foot  foremost 
(tlie  best  one  at  snow-shoes,  I  mean),  and  the  sled  came 
after  me  as  lightly  as  a  dog  might  follow;  and  Annie,  with 
the  lantern,  seemed  to  be  left  behind  and  waiting,  like  a 
pretty  lamp-post. 

The  full  moon  rose  as  bright  behind  me  as  a  paten  of 
pure  silver,  casting  on  the  snow  long  shadows  of  the  few 
things  left  above,  burdened  rock,  and  shaggy  foreland,  and 
the  laboring  trees.  In  the  great  wide  desolation,  distance 
was  a  mocking  vision:  hills  looked  nigh,  and  valleys  far; 
when  hills  were  far  and  valleys  nigh.  And  the  misty 
breath  of  frost,  piercing  through  the  ribs  of  rock,  strik- 
ing to  the  pith  of  trees,  creeping  to  the  heart  of  man,  lay 
along  the  hollow  places,  like  a  serpent  sloughing.     Even 


36^  LORNA  BOONE. 

as  my  own  gaunt  shadow  (travestied  as  if  I  were  the 
moonlight's  daddy-longlegs)  went  before  me  down  the 
slope;  even  I,  the  shadow's  master,  who  had  tried  in  vain 
to  cough,  when  coughing  brought  good  liquorice,  felt  a 
pressure  on  my  bosom,  and  a  husking  in  my  throat. 

However,  I  went  on  quietly,  and  at  a  very  tidy  speed; 
being  only  too  thankful  that  the  snow  had  ceased,  and  no 
wind  as  yet  arisen.  And  from  the  ring  of  low  white  vapor 
girding  all  the  verge  of  sky,  and  from  the  rosy  blue  above, 
and  the  shafts  of  starlight  set  upon  a  quivering  bow,  as 
well  as  from  the  moon  itself  and  the  light  behind  it,  having 
learned  the  signs  of  frost  from  its  bitter  twinges,  I  knew 
that  we  should  have  a  night  as  keen  as  ever  England  felt. 
Nevertheless,  I  had  work  enough  to  keep  me  warm  if  I 
managed  it.  The  question  was,  could  I  contrive  to  save 
my  darling  from  it. 

Daring  not  to  risk  my  sled  by  any  fall  from  the  valley 
cliUs,  I  dragged  it  very  carefully  up  the  steep  incline  of 
ice,  through  the  narrow  chasm,  and  so  to  the  very  brink 
and  ^QvgQ  where  first  I  had  seen  my  Lorna,  in  the  fishing- 
days  of  boyhood.  As  then  I  had  a  trident  fork,  for  stick- 
ing of  the  loaches,  so  now  I  had  a  strong  ash  stake  to  lay 
across  from  rock  to  rock,  and  break  the  speed  of  descend- 
ing. With  this  I  moored  the  sled  quite  safe,  at  the  very 
lip  of  the  chasm,  where  all  was  now  substantial  ice,  green 
and  black  in  the  moonlight;  and  then  I  set  off  up  the 
valley,  skirting  along  one  side  of  it. 

The  stack-fire  still  was  burning  strongly,  but  with  more 
of  heat  than  blaze;  and  many  of  the  younger  Doones  were 
playing  on  the  verge  of  it,  the  children  making  rings  of 
fire,  and  their  mothers  watching  them.  All  the  grave 
and  reverend  warriors,  having  heard  of  rheumatism,  were 
inside  of  log  and  stone,  in  the  two  lowest  houses,  with 
enough  of  candles  burning  to  make  our  list  of  sheep  come 
short. 

All  these  I  passed  without  the  smallest  risk  or  difficulty, 
walking  up  the  channel  of  drift  which  I  spoke  of  once  be- 
fore. And  then  I  crossed  with  more  of  care,  and  to  the 
door  of  Lorna's  house,  and  made  the  sign,  and  listened, 
after  taking  my  snow-shoes  off. 

But  no  one  came  as  I  expected,  neither  could  I  espy  a 
light.     And  I  seemed  to  hear  a  faint  low  spund^  like  the 


BRO  mar  home  a  t  last,  36d 

moaning  of  the  snow-wind.  Then  I  knocked  again  more 
loudly,  with  a  knocking  at  my  heart;  and  receiving  no 
answer,  set  all  my  power  at  once  against  the  door.  In  a 
moment  it  flew  inward,  and  I  glided  along  the  passage,  with 
my  feet  still  slippery.  There  in  Lorna's  room  I  saw,  by 
the  moonlight  flowing  in,  a  sight  which  drove  me  beyond 
sense. 

Lorna  was  behind  a  chair,  crouching  in  the  corner  with 
her  hands  up,  and  a  crucifix,  or  something  that  looked  like 
it.  In  the  middle  of  the  room  lay  Gwenny  Carfax,  stupid, 
yet  with  one  hand  clutching  the  ankle  of  a  struggling  man. 
Another  man  stood  above  my  Lorna,  trying  to  draw  the 
chair  away.  In  a  moment  I  had  him  round  the  waist,  and 
he  went  out  of  the  window  with  a  mighty  crash  of  glass; 
luckily  for  him  that  window  had  no  bars  like  some  of 
them.  Then  I  took  the  other  man  by  the  neck;  and  he 
could  not  plead  for  mercy.  I  bore  him  out  of  the  house 
as  lightly  as  I  would  bear  a  baby,  yet  squeezing  his  throat 
a  little  more  than  I  fain  would  do  to  an  infant.  By  the 
bright  moonlight,  I  saw  that  I  carried  Marwood  de  Whiche- 
halse.  For  his  father's  sake  I  spared  him,  and  because  he 
had  been  my  school-fellow:  but  with  every  muscle  of  my 
body  strung  with  indignation,  I  cast  him,  like  a  skittle, 
from  me  into  a  snow-drift,  which  closed  over  him.  Then 
1  looked  for  the  other  fellow,  tossed  through  Lorna's  win- 
dow; and  found  him  lying  stunned  and  bleeding,  neither 
able  to  groan  yet.  Charleworth  Doone,  if  his  gushing 
blood  did  not  much  mislead  me. 

It  was  no  time  to  linger  now.  I  fastened  my  shoes  in  a 
moment,  and  caught  up  my  own  darling,  with  her  head 
upon  my  shoulder,  where  she  whispered  faintly;  and  tell- 
ing Gwenny  to  follow  me,  or  else  I  would  come  back  for 
her  if  she  could  not  walk  the  snow,  I  ran  the  whole  dis- 
tance to  my  sled,  caring  not  who  might  follow  me.  Then, 
by  the  time  I  had  set  up  Lorna,  beautiful  and  smiling, 
with  the  seal-skin  cloak  all  over  her,  sturdy  Gwenny  came 
along,  having  trudged  in  the  track  of  my  snow-shoes, 
although  with  two  bags  on  her  back.  I  set  her  in  beside 
her  mistress,  to  support  her,  and  keep  warm;  and  then 
with  one  look  back  at  the  glen,  which  had  been  so  long  my 
home  of  heart,  I  hung  behind  the  sled,  and  launched  it 
down  the  steep  and  dangerous  wa^. 


370  LOUNA  nOONE. 

Though  the  cliffs  were  black  above  us,  and  the  road  un- 
seen in  front,  and  a  great  white  grave  of  snow  might  at  a 
single  word  come  down,  Lorna  was  as  calm  and  happy  as 
an  infant  in  its  bed.  She  knew  that  I  was  with  her;  and 
when  I  told  her  not  to  speak,  she  touched  my  hand  in 
silence.  Gwenny  was  in  a  much  greater  fright,  having 
never  seen  such  a  thing  before,  neither  knowing  what  it  is 
to  yield  to  pure  love's  confidence.  I  could  hardly  keep 
her  quiet,  without  making  a  noise  myself.  With  my  staff 
from  rock  to  rock,  and  my  weight  thrown  backward,  I 
broke  the  sled's  too  rapid  way,  and  brought  my  grown  love 
safely  out,  by  the  self-same  road  which  first  had  led  me  to 
her  girlish  fancy,  and  my  boyish  slavery. 

Unpursued,  yet  looking  back  as  if  some  one  must  be 
after  us,  we  skirted  round  the  black  whirling  pool,  and 
gained  the  meadows  beyond  it.  Here  there  was  hard 
collar-work,  the  track  being  all  up-hill  and  rough;  and 
Gwenny  wanted  to  jump  out,  to  lighten  the  sled  and  to 
push  behind.  But  I  would  not  hear  of  it,  because  it  was 
now  so  deadly  cold,  and  I  feared  that  Lorna  might  get 
frozen  without  having  Gwenny  to  keep  her  warm.  And 
after  all,  it  was  the  sweetest  labor  I  had  ever  known  in  all 
my  life,  to  be  sure  that  I  was  pulling  Lorna,  and  pulling 
her  to  our  own  farm-house. 

Gwenny's  nose  was  touched  with  frost  before  we  had 
gone  much  farther,  because  she  would  not  keep  it  quiet 
and  snug  beneath  the  seal-skin.  And  here  I  had  to  stop 
in  the  moonlight  (which  was  very  dangerous)  and  rub  it 
with  a  clove  of  snow,  as  Eliza  had  taught  me;  and  Gwenny 
scolding  all  the  time  as  if  myself  had  frozen  it.  Lorna 
was  now  so  far  oppressed  with  all  the  troubles  of  the  even- 
ing, and  the  joy  that  followed  them,  as  well  as  by  the 
piercing  cold  and  difficulty  of  breathing,  that  she  lay  quite 
motionless,  like  fairest  wax  in  the  moonlight — when  we 
stole  a  glance  at  her,  beneath  the  dark  folds  of  the  cloak; 
and  I  thought  that  she  was  falling  into  the  heavy  snow- 
sleep,  whence  there  is  no  awaking. 

Therefore  I  drew  my  traces  tight,  and  set  my  whole 
strength  to  the  business;  and  we  slipped  along  at  a  merry 
pace,  although  with  many  joltings,  which  must  have  sent 
my  darling  out  into  the  cold  snow-drifts  but  for  the  short 
strong  arm  of  Gwenny.     And  so  in  about  an  hour's  time. 


BEO  UQHT  HOME  A  T  LAST,  371 

in  spite  of  many  hinderances,  we  came  home  to  the  old 
court-yard,  and  all  the  dogs  saluted  us.  My  heart  was 
quivering,  and  my  cheeks  as  hot  as  the  Doones'  bonfire, 
with  wondering  both  what  Lorna  would  think  of  our  farm- 
yard, and  what  my  mother  would  think  of  her.  Upon  the 
former  subject  my  anxiety  was  wasted;  for  Lorna  neither 
saw  a  thing,  nor  even  opened  her  heavy  eyes.  And  as  to 
what  mother  would  think  of  her,  she  was  certain  not  to 
think  at  all  until  she  had  cried  over  her. 

And  so,  indeed,  it  came  to  pass.  Even  at  this  length  of 
time  1  can  hardly  tell  it,  although  so  briglit  before  my 
mind,  because  it  moves  my  heart  so.  The  sled  was  at  the 
open  door,  with  only  Lorna  in  it:  for  Gwenny  Carfax  had 
jumped  out,  and  hung  back  in  the  clearing,  giving  any 
reason  rather  than  the  only  true  one — that  she  would  not 
be  intruding.  At  the  door  were  all  our  people;  first,  of 
.course,  Betty  Mux  worthy,  teaching  me  how  to  draw  the 
sled,  as  if  she  had  been  born  in  it,  and  flourishing  with  a 
great  broom  wherever  a  speck  of  snow  lay.  Then,  dear 
Annie,  and  old  Molly  (who  was  very  quiet,  and  counted 
almost  for  nobody),  and  behind  them  mother,  looking  as 
if  she  wanted  to  come  first,  but  doubted  how  the  manners 
lay.  In  the  distance  Lizzie  stood,  fearful  of  encouraging, 
but  unable  to  keep  out  of  it. 

Betty  was  going  to  poke  her  broom  right  in  under  the 
seal-skin  cloak,  where  Lorna  lay  unconscious,  and  where 
her  precious  breath  hung  frozen,  like  a  silver  cobweb;  but 
I  caught  up  Betty's  broom,  and  flung  it  clean  away  over  the 
corn-chamber;  and  then  I  put  the  others  by,  and  fetched 
my  mother  forward. 

*'You  shall  see  her  first,"  I  said;  *' Is  she  not  your 
daughter?    Hold  the  light  there,  Annie." 

Dear  mother's  hands  were  quick  and  trembling,  as  she 
opened  the  shining  folds;  and  there  she  saw  my  Lorna 
sleeping,  with  her  black  hair  all  disheveled,  and  she  bent 
and  kissed  her  forehead,  and  only  said,  "  God  bless  her, 
Jolin!"  And  then  she  was  taken  with  violent  weeping, 
and  I  was  forced  to  hold  her. 

'^  Us  may  tich  of  her  now,  I  racken,"  said  Betty,  in  her 
most  jealous  way:  "Annie,  tak  her  by  the  head,  and  I'll 
tak  her  by  the  toesen.  No  taime  to  stand  here  like  girt 
gawks.  Don'ee  tak  on  zo,  missus.  There  be  vainer  vish 
in  the  zea Lor,  but  her  be  a  booty!" 


372  LORNA  BOONE. 

With  this  they  carried  her  into  the  house,  Betty  chatter- 
ing all  the  while,  and  going  on  now  about  Lorna^s  hands, 
and  the  others  crowding  round  her,  so  that  I  thought  I  was 
not  wanted  among  so  many  women,  and  should  only  get  the 
worst  of  it,  and  perhaps  do  harm  to  my  darling.  There- 
fore I  went  and  brought  Gwenny  in  and  gave  her  a  potful 
of  bacon  and  peas,  and  an  iron  spoon  to  eat  it  with,  which 
she  did  right  heartily. 

Then  I  asked  her  how  she  could  have  been  such  a  fool 
as  to  let  those  two  vile  fellows  enter  the  house  where  Lorna 
was;  and  she  accounted  for  it  so  naturally  that  I  could  only 
blame  myself.  For  my  agreement  had  been  to  give  one 
loud  knock  (if  you  happen  to  remember),  and  after  that  two 
little  knocks.  Well,  these  two  drunken  rogues  had  come; 
and  one,  being  very  drunk  indeed,  had  given  a  great 
thump,  and  then  nothing  more  to  do  with  it;  and  the 
other,  bein^  three-quarters  drunk,  had  followed  his  leader 
(as  one  might  say)  but  feebly,  and  making  two  of  it. 
Whereupon  up  jumped  Lorna,  and  declared  that  her  John 
was  there. 

All  this  Gwenny  told  me  shortly,  between  the  whiles  of 
eating,  and  even  while  she  licked  the  spoon;  and  then 
there  came  a  message  for  me  that  my  love  was  sensible, 
and  was  seeking  all  around  for  me.  Then  I  told  Gwenny 
to  hold  her  tongue  (whatever  she  did,  among  us),  and  not 
to  trust  to  women's  words;  and  she  told  me  they  all  were 
liars,  as  she  had  found  out  long  ago;  and  the  only  thing  to 
believe  in  was  an  honest  man  when  found.  Thereupon  I 
could  have  kissed  her,  as  a  sort  of  tribute,  liking  to  be 
appreciated;  yet  the  peas  upon  her  lips  made  use  think 
about  it,  and  thought  is  fatal  to  action.  So  I  went  to  see 
my  dear. 

That  sight  I  shall  not  forget  till  my  dying  head  falls 
back,  and  my  breast  can  lift  no  more.  I  know  not 
whether  I  were  then  more  than  blessed,  or  harrowed  by  it. 
For  in  the  settle  was  my  Lorna,  propped  with  pillows  round 
her,  and  her  clear  hands  spread  sometimes  to  the  blazing 
fire-place.  In  her  eyes  no  knowledge  was  of  anything 
around  her,  neither  in  her  neck  the  sense  of  leaning 
toward  anything.  Only  both  her  lovely  hands  were 
entreating  something  to  spare  her,  or  to  love  her;  and  the 
lines  of  supplication  quivered  in  her  sad,  white  face. 


BBO  VGHT  HOME  A  T  LAST.  373 

*'  All  go  away  except  my  mother/'  I  said  very  quietly, 
but  so  that  I  would  be  obeyed;  and  everybody  knew  it. 
Then  mother  came  to  me  alone;  and  she  said,  **  The  frost 
is  in  her  brain;  I  have  heard  of  this  before,  John." 
''Mother,  I  will  have  it  out,"  was  all  that  I  could  answer 
her;  **  leave  her  to  me  altogether;  only  you  sit  there  and 
watch."  For  I  felt  that  Lorna  knew  me,  and  no  other  soul 
but  me;  and  that  if  not  interfered  with,  she  would  soon 
come  home  to  me.  Therefore  I  sat  gently  by  her,  leaving 
Nature,  as  it  were,  to  her  own  good  time  and  will.     And  '^■ 

presently  the  glance  that  watched  me,  as  at  a  distance  and 
in  doubt,  began  to  flutter  and  to  brighten,  and  to  deepen 
into  kindness,  then  to  beam  with  trust  and  love,  and  then 
with  gathering  tears  to  falter,  and  in  shame  to  turn  away. 
But  the  small  entreating  hands  found  their  way,  as  if  by 
instinct,  to  my  great  protecting  palms,  and  trembled  there, 
and  rested  there. 

For  a  little  while  we  lingered  thus,  neither  wishing  to 
move  away,  neither  caring  to  look  beyond  the  presence  of 
the  other;  both  alike  so  full  of  hope,  and  comfort,  and 
true  happiness,  if  only  the  world  would  let  us  be.  And 
then  a  little  sob  disturbed  us,  and  mother  tried  to  make 
believe  that  she  was  only  coughing.  But  Lorna,  guessing 
who  she  was,  jumped  up  so  very  rashly  that  she  almost  set  her 
frock  on  fire  from  the  great  ash-log;  and  away  she  ran  to 
the  old  oak  chair,  where  mother  was  by  the  clock-case  pre- 
tending to  be  knitting,  and  she  took  the  work  from 
mother's  hands,  and  laid  them  both  upon  her  head,  kneeling 
humbly  and  looking  up. 

''God  bless  you,  my  fair  mistress!"  said  mother,  bend- 
ing nearer;  and  then,  as  Lorna's  gaze  prevailed,  "  God 
bless  you,  my  sweet  child  I  " 

And  so  she  went  to  mother's  heart  by  the  very  nearest 
road,  even  as  she  had  come  to  mine;  I  mean  the  road  of 
pity,  smoothed  by  grace,  and  youth,  and  gentleness. 


374  LORNA  BOONE, 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

A   CHANGE  LONG   NEEDED. 

Jeremy  Stickles  was  gone  south,  ere  ever  the  frost  set 
in,  for  the  purpose  of  mustering  forces  to  attack  the  Doone 
Glen.  But  of  course  this  weather  had  put  a  stop  to  every 
kind  of  movement;  for  even  if  men  could  have  borne  the 
cold,  they  could  scarcely  be  brought  to  face  the  perils  of 
the  snow-drifts.  And  to  tell  the  truth,  I  cared  not  how 
long  this  weather  lasted,  so  long  as  we  had  enough  to  eat, 
and  could  keep  ourselves  from  freezing.  Not  only  that  I 
did  not  want  Master  Stickles  back  again,  to  make  more 
disturbances,  but  also  that  the  Doones  could  not  come 
prowling  after  Lorna,  while  the  snow  lay  piled  between  us, 
with  the  surface  soft  and  dry.  Of  course  they  would  very 
soon  discover  where  their  lawful  queen  was,  although  the 
track  of  sled  and  snow-shoes  had  been  quite  obliterated  by 
another  shower  before  the  revelers  could  have  grown  half 
as  drunk  as  they  intended.  But  Marwood  de  Whichehalse, 
who  had  been  snowed  up  among  them  (as  Gwenny  said), 
after  helping  to  strip  the  beacon,  that  young  Squire  was 
almost  certain  to  have  recognized  me,  and  to  have  told  vile 
Carver.  And  it  gave  me  no  little  pleasure  to  think  how 
mad  that  Carver  must  be  with  me  for  robbing  him  of  the 
lovely  bride  whom  he  was  starving  into  matrimony.  How- 
ever, I  was  not  pleased  at  all  with  the  prospect  of  the  con- 
sequences, but  set  all  hands  on  to  thresh  the  corn  ere  the 
Doones  could  come  and  burn  the  ricks.  For  1  knew  that 
they  could  not  come  yet,  inasmuch  as  even  a  forest  pony 
could  not  traverse  the  country,  much  less  the  heavy  horses 
needed  to  carry  such  men  as  they  were.  And  hundreds  of 
the  forest  ponies  died  in  this  hard  weather,  some  being 
buried  in  the  snow,  and  more  of  them  starved  for  want  of 
grass. 

Going  through  this  state  of  things,  and  laying  down  the 


A  CHANGE  LONG  NEEDED.  375 

law  about  it  (subject  to  correction),  I  very  soon  persuaded 
Lorna  that  for  the  present  she  was  safe,  and  (which  made 
her  still  more  happy)  that  she  was  not  only  welcome,  but 
as  gladdening  to  our  eyes  as  the  flowers  of  May.  Of 
course,  so  far  as  regarded  myself,  this  was  not  a  hundredth 
part  of  the  real  truth;  and  even  as  regarded  others,  I 
might  have  said  it  ten  times  over.  For  Lorna  had  so  won 
them  all  by  her  kind  and  gentle  ways,  and  her  mode  of 
hearkening  to  every  body's  trouble  and  replying  without 
words,  as  well  as  by  her  beauty  and  simple  grace  of  all 
things,  that  I  could  almost  wish  sometimes  the  rest  would 
leave  her  more  to  me.  But  mother  could  not  do  enough, 
and  Annie  almost  worshiped  her;  and  even  Lizzie  could 
not  keen  her  bitterness  toward  her,  especially  when  she 
found  that  Lorna  knew  as  much  of  books  as  need  be. 

As  for  John  Fry,  and  Betty,  and  Molly,  they  were  a  per- 
fect plague  when  Lorna  came  into  the  kitchen.  For  be- 
twixt their  curiosity  to  see  a  live  Doone  in  the  flesh  (when 
certain  not  to  eat  them),  and  their  high  respect  for  birth 
(with  or  without  honesty),  and  their  intense  desire  to 
know  all  about  Master  John's  sweetheart  (dropped,  as 
they  said,  from  the  snow-clouds),  and  most  of  all  their  ad- 
miration of  a  beauty  such  as  never  even  their  angels  could 
have  seen — betwixt  and  between  all  this,  I  say,  there  was 
no  getting  the  dinner  cooked,  with  Lorna  in  the  kitchen. 

And  the  worst  of  it  was  that  Lorna  took  the  strangest  of 
aH  strange  fancies  for  this  very  kitchen,  and  it  was  hard 
to  keep  her  out  of  it.  Not  that  she  had  any  special  bent 
for  cooking,  as  our  Annie  had;  rather,  indeed,  the  con- 
trary, for  she  liked  to  have  her  food  ready  cooked;  but 
that  she  loved  the  look  of  the  place,  and  the  cheerful  fire 
burning,  and  the  racks  of  bacon  to  be  seen,  and  the  rich- 
ness and  the  homeliness,  and  the  pleasant  smell  of  every- 
thing. And  who  knows  but  what  she  may  have  liked  (as 
the  very  best  of  maidens  do)  to  be  admired,  now  and  then, 
between  the  times  of  business? 

Therefore,  if  you  wanted  Lorna  (as  I  was  always  sure  to 
do,  God  knows  how  many  times  a  day),  the  very  surest 
place  to  find  her  was  our  own  old  kitchen.  Kot  gossiping, 
I  mean,  nor  loitering,  neither  seeking  into  things;  but 
seeming  to  be  quite  at  home,  as  if  she  had  known  it  from 
a  child,  and  seeming  (to  my  eyes  at  least)  to  light  it  up. 


376  LORNA  BOONE. 

and  make  life  and  color  out  of  all  the  dullness,  as  I  have 
seen  the  breaking  sun  do  among  brown  shocks  of  wheat. 

But  any  one  who  wished  to  learn  whether  girls  can 
change  or  not,  as  the  things  around  them  change  (while 
yet  their  hearts  are  steadfast,  and  forever  anchored),  he 
should  just  have  seen  my  Lorna  after  a  fortnight  of  our 
life  and  freedom  from  anxiety.  It  is  possible  that  my 
company — although  I  am  accounted  stupid  by  folk  who  do 
not  know  my  way — may  have  had  something  to  do  with 
it;  but  upon  this*^  I  will  not  say  much,  lest  I  lose  my  char- 
acter. And  indeed  as  regards  company,  I  had  all  the 
threshing  to  see  to,  and  more  than  half  to  do  myself 
(though  any  one  would  have  thought  that  even  John  Fry 
must  work  hard  this  weather),  else  I  could  not  hope  at  all 
to  get  our  corn  into  such  compass  that  a  good  gun  might 
protect  it. 

But  to  come  back  to  Lorna  again  (which  I  always  longed 
to  do,  and  must  long  forever),  all  the  change  between 
night  and  day,  all  the  shifts  of  cloud  and  sun,  all  the  dif- 
ference between  black  death  and  brightsome  liveliness, 
scarcely  may  suggest  or  equal  Lorna's  transformation. 
Quick  she  had  always  been,  and  "peart"  (as  we  say  on 
Exmoor),  and  gifted  with  a  leap  of  thought  too  swift  for 
me  to  follow;  and  hence  you  may  find  fault  with  much, 
when  I  report  her  sayings.  But  through  the  whole  had 
always  run,  as  a  black  string  goes  through  pearls,  some- 
thing dark  and  touched  with  shadow,  colored  as  with  an 
early  end. 

But  now,  behold,  there  was  none  of  this!  There  was  no 
getting  her,  for  a  moment  even,  to  be  serious.  All  her 
bright  young  wit  was  flashing,  like  a  newly-awakened 
flame,  and  all  her  high  young  spirits  leaped,  as  if  dancing 
to  its  fire.  And  yet  she  never  spoke  a  word  which  gave 
more  pain  than  pleasure. 

And  even  in  her  outward  look  there  was  much  of  differ- 
ence. Whether  it  was  our  warmth,  and  freedom,  and  our 
harmless  love  of  God,  and  trust  in  one  another;  or  whether 
it  were  our  air,  and  water,  and  the  pea-fed  bacon;  anyhow 
my  Lorna  grew  richer  and  more  lovely,  more  perfect  and 
more  firm  of  figure,  and  more  light  and  buoyant,  with 
every  passing  day  that  laid  its  tribute  on  her  cheeks  and 
lips.     I  was  allowed  one  kiss  a  day;  only  one  for  manners' 


A  CHANGE  LONG  NEEDED.  377 

sake,  because  she  was  our  visitor;  and  I  might  have  it  be- 
fore breakfast,  or  else  when  I  came  to  say  *' good-night!" 
according  as  I  decided.  And  I  decided  every  night  not  to 
take  it  in  the  morning,  but  put  it  off  till  the  evening  time, 
and  have  the  pleasure  to  think  about  through  all  the  day 
of  working.  But  when  my  darling  came  up  to  me  in  the 
early  daylight,  fresher  than  the  day-star,  and  with  no  one 
looking;  only  her  bright  eyes  smiling,  and  sweet  lips  quite 
ready,  was  it  likely  I  could  wait,  and  think  all  day  about 
it?  For  she  wore  a  frock  of  Annie's  nicely  made  to  fit  her, 
taken  in  at  the  waist  and  curved — I  never  could  explain  it, 
not  being  a  mantua-maker;  but  I  know  how  her  figure 
looked  in  it;  and  how  it  came  toward  me. 

But  this  is  neither  here  nor  there,  and  I  must  on  with 
my  story.  Those  days  are  very  sacred  to  me;  and  if  I 
speak  lightly  of  them,  trust  me,  'tis  with  lip  alone;  while 
from  heart  reproach  peeps  sadly  at  the  flippant  tricks  of 
mind. 

Although  it  was  the  longest  winter  ever  known  in  our 
parts  (never  having  ceased  to  freeze  for  a  single  night,  and 
scarcely  for  a  single  day,  from  the  middle  of  December  till 
the  second  week  in  March),  to  me  it  was  the  very  shortest 
and  the  most  delicious;  and  verily  I  do  believe  it  was  the 
same  to  Lorna.  But  when  the  Ides  of  March  were  come 
(of  which  I  do  remember  something  dim  from  school,  and 
something  clear  from  my  favorite  writer),  lo,  there  were  in- 
creasing signals  of  a  change  of  weather. 

One  leading  feature  of  that  long  cold,  and  a  thing  re- 
marked by  every  one  (however  unobservant),  had  been  the 
hollow  moaning  sound  ever  present  in  the  air,  morning, 
noon,  and  night-time,  and  especially  at  night,  whether  any 
wind  were  stirring,  or  whether  it  were  a  perfect  calm. 
Our  people  said  that  it  was  a  witch  cursing  all  the  country 
from  the  caverns  by  the  sea,  and  that  frost  and  snow  would 
last  until  we  could  catch  and  drown  her.  But  the  land 
being  thoroughly  blocked  with  snow,  and  the  inshore  parts  of 
the  sea  with  ice  (floating  in  great  fields  along).  Mother 
Melldrum  (if  she  it  were)  had  the  caverns  all  to  herself, 
for  there  was  no  getting  at  her.  And  speaking  of  the 
sea  reminds  me  of  a  thing  reported  to  us,  and  on  good 
authority;  though  people  might  be  found  hereafter  who 
would  not  believe  it,  unless  I  told  them  that  from  what 


<?78  LORNA  DOONE. 

I  myself  beheld  of  the  channel  I  place  perfect  faith  in 
it:  and  this  is,  that  a  dozen  sailors  at  the  beginning  of 
March  crossed  the  ice,  with  the  aid  of  poles,  from  Cleve- 
don  to  Penarth,  or  where  the  Holm  rocks  barred  the 
floatage. 

But  now,  about  the  tenth  of  March,  that  miserable 
moaning  noise,  which  had  both  foregone  and  accompanied 
the  rigor,  died  away  from  out  the  air;  and  we,  being  now 
so  used  to  it,  thought  at  first  that  we  must  be  deaf.  And 
then  the  fog,  which  had  hung  about  (even  in  full  sun- 
shine), vanished,  and  the  shrouded  hills  shone  forth  with 
brightness  manifold.  And  now  the  sky  at  length  began 
to  come  to  its  true  manner,  which  we  had  not  seen  for 
months — a  mixture  (if  I  so  may  speak)  of  various  expres- 
sions. Whereas  till  now  from  Allhallows-tide,  six  weeks 
ere  the  great  frost  set  in,  the  heavens  had  worn  one  heavy 
mask  of  ashen  gray  when  clouded,  or  else  one  amethystine 
tinge  with  a  hazy  rim  when  cloudless.  So  it  was  pleasant 
CO  behold,  after  that  monotony,  the  fickle  sky  which  suits 
our  England,  though  abused  by  foreign  folk. 

And  soon  the  dappled  softening  sky  gave  3ome  earnest 
of  its  mood;  for  a  brisk  south  wind  arose,  and  the  blessed 
rain  came  driving;  cold,  indeed,  yet  most  refreshing  to 
the  skin,  all  parched  with  snow,  and  the  eyeballs  so  long 
dazzled.  Neither  was  the  heart  more  sluggish  in  its 
thankfulness  to  God.  People  had  begun  to  think,  and 
somebody  had  prophesied,  that  we  should  have  no  spring 
this  year,  no  seed-time  and  no  harvest;  for  that  the  Lord 
had  sent  a  judgment  on  this  country  of  England,  and  the 
nation  dwelling  in  it,  because  of  the  wickedness  of  the 
Court,  and  the  encouragement  shown  to  Papists.  And 
this  was  proved,  they  said,  by  what  had  happened  in  the 
town  of  London,  where,  for  more  than  a  fortnight,  such  a 
chill  of  darkness  lay  that  no  man  might  behold  his  neigh- 
bor, even  across  the  narrowest  street;  and  where  the  ice 
upon  the  Thames  was  more  that  four  feet  thick,  and 
crushing  London  Bridge  in  twain.  Now  to  these  prophets 
I  paid  no  heed,  believing  not  that  Providence  would  freeze 
us  for  other  people's  sins:  neither  seeing  how  England 
could  for  many  generations  have  enjoyed  good  sunshine,  if 
Popery  meant  frost  and  fogs.  Besides,  why  could  not 
Providence  settle  the  business  once  for  all  by  freezing  the 


A  GHANOE  LONG  NEEDED.  3^9 

Pope  himself,  even  though  (according  to  our  view)  he  were 
destined  to  extremes  of  heat,  together  with  all  who  fol- 
lowed him? 

Not  to  meddle  with  that  subject,  being  beyond  my 
judgment,  let  me  tell  the  things  I  saw,  and  then  you  must 
believe  me.  The  wind,  of  course,  I  could  not  see,  not 
having  the  powers  of  a  pig;  but  I  could  see  the  laden 
branches  of  the  great  oaks  moving,  hoping  to  shake  off 
the  load  packed  and  saddled  on  them.  And  hereby  I  may 
note  a  thing  which  some  one  may  explain  perhaps  in  the 
after  ages,  when  people  come  to  look  at  things.  This  is, 
that  in  desperate  cold  all  the  trees  were  pulled  awry,  even 
though  the  wind  had' scattered  the  snow-burden  from  them. 
Of  some  sorts  the  branches  bended  downward,  like  an  arch- 
way; of  other  sorts  the  boughs  curved  upward,  like  a  red 
deer's  frontlet.  This  I  know  no  reason*  for;  but  am 
ready  to  swear  that  I  saw  it. 

Now  when  the  first  of  the  rain  began,  and  the  old 
familiar  softness  spread  upon  the  window-glass,  and  ran  a 
little  way  in  channels  (though  from  the  coldness  of  the 
glass  it  froze  before  reaching  the  bottom),  knowing  at  once 
the  difference  from  the  short  sharp  thud  of  snow,  we  all 
ran  out,  and  filled  our  eyes  and  filled  our  hearts  with 
gazing.  True,  the  snow  was  piled  up  now  all  in  mountains 
round  us;  true,  the  air  was  still  so  cold  that  our  breath 
froze  on  the  door- way,  and  the  rain  was  turned  to  ice 
wherever  it  struck  anything;  nevertheless,  that  it  was  rain 
there  was  no  denying,  as  we  watched  it  across  black  door- 
ways, and  could  see  no  sign  of  white.  Mother,  who  had 
made  up  her  mind  that  the  farm  was  not  worth  having, 
after  all  those  prophecies,  and  that  all  of  us  must  starve,  and 
holes  be  scratched  in  the  snow  for  us,  and  no  use  to  put  up 
a  tombstone  (for  our  church  had  been  shut  up  long  ago), 
mother  fell  upon  my  breast,  and  sobbed  that  I  was  the 
cleverest  fellow  ever  born  of  woman.     And  this  because  I 

*  The  reason  is  very  simple,  as  all  nature's  reasons  are,  though  the 
subject  has  not  yet  been  investigated  thoroughly.  In  some  trees 
the  vascular  tissue  is  more  open  on  the  upper  side,  in  others  on  the 
under  side,  of  the  spreading  branches,  according  to  the  form  of 
growth  and  habit  of  the  sap.  Hence,  in  very  severe  cold,  when  the 
vessels  (comparatively  empty)  are  constricted,  some  have  more  power 
of  contraction  on  the  upper  side,  and  some  upon  the  under. — Ed, 


380  LORNA  BOONE. 

had  condemned  the  prophets  for  a  pack  of  fools;  not  seeing 
how  business  could  go  on,  if  people  stopped  to  hearken  to 
them. 

Then  Lorna  came  and  glorified  me,  for  I  had  predicted 
a  change  of  weather,  moie  to  keep  their  spirits  up  than 
with  real  hope  of  it;  and  then  came  Annie  blushing  shyly, 
as  I  loooked  at  her  and  said  that  Winnie  would  soon  have 
four  legs  now.  This  referred  to  some  stupid  joke  made  by 
John  Fry  or  somebody,  that  in  this  weather  a  man  had  no 
legs,  and  a  horse  had  only  two. 

But  as  the  rain  came  down  upon  us  from  the  south-west 
wind,  and  we  could  not  have  enough  of  it,  even  putting 
our  tongues  to  catch  it,  as  little  children  might  do,  and 
beginning  to  talk  of  primroses,  the  very  noblest  thing  of  all 
was  to  see  and  hear  the  gratitude  of  the  poor  beasts  yet 
remaining  and  the  few  surviving  birds.  From  the  cow- 
house lowing  came,  more  than  of  fifty  milking  times;  moo 
and  moo,  and  a  turn-up  noise  at  the  end  of  every  bellow, 
as  if  from  the  very  heart  of  kine.  Then  the  horses  in  the 
stables,  packed  as  closely  as  they  could  stick,  at  the  risk  of 
kicking,  to  keep  the  warmth  in  one  another,  and  their 
spirits  up  by  discoursing;  these  began  with  one  accord  to 
lift  up  their  voices,  snorting,  snaffling,  whinnying  and 
neighing,  and  trotting  to  the  door  to  know  when  they 
should  have  work  again.  To  whom,  as  if  in  answer,  came 
the  feeble  bleating  of  the  sheep,  what  few,  by  dint  of 
greatest  care,  had  kept  their  fleeces  on  their  backs,  and 
their  four  legs  under  them. 

Neither  was  it  a  trifling  thing,  let  whoso  will  say  the  con- 
trary, to  behold  the  ducks  and  geese,  marching  forth  in 
handsome  order  from  their  beds  of  fern  and  straw.  What 
a  goodly  noise  they  kept — what  a  flapping  of  their  wings, 
and  a  jerking  of  their  tails,  as  they  stood  right  up  and 
tried,  with  a  whistling  in  their  throats,  to  imitate  a  cock's 
crow!  And  then  how  daintily  they  took  the  wet  upon  their 
dusty  plumes,  and  ducked  their  shoulders  to  it,  and  began 
to  dress  themselves,  and  laid  their  grooved  bills  on  the 
snow,  and  dabbled  for  more  ooziness! 

Lorna  had  never  seen,  I  dare  say,  anything  like  this 
before,  and  it  was  all  that  we  could  do  to  keep  her  from 
rushing  forth  with  only  little  lambVwool  shoes  on,  and 
kissing  every  one  of  them.     *'  Oh  the  dear  things!  oh  the 


A  CHANGE  LONG  NEEDED.  381 

clear  things!^'  she  kept  saying  continually,  "  how  wonderful 
clever  they  are  I  Only  look  at  that  one  with  his  foot  up 
giving  orders  to  the  others,  John!" 

*'  And  I  must  give  orders  to  you,  my  darling,"  I  an- 
swered, gazing  on  her  face,  so  brilliant  with  excitement; 
*'  and  that  is,  that  you  come  in  at  once,  with  that  worri- 
some cough  of  yours,  and  sit  by  the  fire  and  warm  yourself." 

'^  Oh,  no,  John.  Not  for  a  minute,  if  you  please,  good 
John.  I  want  to  see  the  snow  go  away,  and  the  gvQ^w 
meadows  coming  forth.  And  here  comes  our  favorite 
robin,  who  has  lived  in  the  oven  so  long,  and  sung  us  a 
song  every  morning.     I  must  see  what  he  thinks  of  it." 

**  You  will  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  I  answered  very 
shortly,  being  only  too  glad  of  a  cause  for  having  her  in 
my  arms  again.  So  I  caught  her  up,  and  carried  her  in; 
and  she  looked  and  smiled  so  sweetly  at  me  instead  of 
pouting  (as  I  had  feared),  that  I  found  myself  unable  to  go 
very  fast  along  the  passage.  And  I  set  her  there  in  her 
favorite  place  by  the  sweet-scented  wood-fire;  and  she  paid 
me  porterage,  without  my  even  asking  her;  and  for  all  the 
beauty  of  the  rain,  I  was  fain  to  stay  with  her,  until  our 
Annie  came  to  say  that  my  advice  was  wanted. 

Now,  my  advice  was  never  much,  as  everybody  knew 
quite  well;  but  that  was  the  way  they  always  put  it  when 
they  wanted  me  to  work  for  them.  And  in  truth  it  was 
time  for  me  to  work;  not  for  others,  but  myself  and  (as  I 
always  thought)  for  Lorna.  For  the  rain  was  now  coming 
down  in  earnest;  and  the  top  of  the  snow  being  frozen  at 
last,  and  glazed  as  hard  as  a  china  cup,  by  means  of  the 
sun  and  frost  afterward,  all  the  rain  ran  right  away  from 
the  steep  inclines,  and  all  the  outlets  being  blocked  with 
ice  set  up  like  tables,  it  threatened  to  flood  everything. 
Already  it  was  ponding  up,  like  a  tide  advancing,  at  the 
threshold  of  the  door  from  which  we  had  watched  the 
duck-birds;  both  because  great  piles  of  snow  trended  in 
that  direction,  in  spite  of  all  our  scraping,  and  also  that 
the  gully-hole,  where  the  water  of  the  shute  went  out  (I 
mean  when  it  was  water)  now  was  choked  with  lumps  of 
ice  as  big  as  a  man's  body.  For  the  "shoot,"  as  we  called 
our  little  runnel  of  everlasting  water,  never  known  to 
freeze  before,  and  always  ready  for  any  man  either  to  wash 
his  hands,  or  drink,  where  it  spouted  from  a  trough  of 


>y 


882  LOUNA  DOONE. 

bark,  set  among  white  flint-stones;  this  at  last  had  given 
in,  and  its  music  ceased  to  lull  us  as  we  lay  in  bed. 

It  was  not  long  before  I  managed  to  drain  off  this  threat- 
ening flood  by  opening  the  old  sluice-hole;  but  I  had  much 
karder  work  to  keep  the  stables,  and  the  cow-house,  and 
the  other  sheds,  from  flooding.  For  we  have  a  sapient 
practice  (and  I  never  saw  the  contrary,  round  about  our 
parts,  I  mean)  of  keeping  all  rooms  underground,  so  that 
you  step  down  to  them.  We  say  that  thus  we  keep  them 
warmer,  both  for  cattle  and  for  men,  in  the  time  of  winter, 
and  cooler  in  the  summer-time.  This  I  will  not  contra- 
dict, though  having  my  own  opinion;  but  it  seems  to  me 
to  be  a  relic  of  the  time  when  people  in  the  Western  coun- 
tries lived  in  caves  beneath  the  ground,  and  blocked  the 
mouths  with  neat-skins. 

Let  that  question  still  abide  for  men  who  study  ancient 
times  to  inform  me,  if  they  will.  All  I  know  is,  that  now 
we  had  no  blessings  for  the  system.  If,  after  all  their  cold 
and  starving,  our  weak  cattle  now  should  have  to  stand  up 
to  their  knees  in  water,  it  would  be  certain  death  to  them; 
and  we  had  lost  enough  already  to  make  us  poor  for  a  long 
time,  not  to  speak  of  our  kind  love  for  them.  And  I  do 
assure  you  I  loved  some  horses,  and  even  some  cows,  for 
that  matter,  as  if  they  had  been  my  blood-relations,  know- 
ing as  I  did  their  virtues.  And  some  of  these  were  lost  to 
us,  and  I  could  not  bear  to  think  of  them.  Therefore  I 
worked  hard  all  night  to  try  and  save  the  rest  of  them. 


BQ UIBE  FAQQ  Uti  MAKES  SOME  L  UCK7  HITS.       383 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

SQUIRE  FAGGUS   MAKES   SOME   LUCKY   HITS. 

Through  that  season  of  bitter  frost,  the  red  deer  of  the 
forest,  having  nothing  to  feed  upon,  and  no  shelter  to  rest 
in,  had  grown  accustomed  to  our  ricks  of  corn,  and  liay, 
and  clover.  There  we  might  see  a  hundred  of  them, 
almost  any  morning,  come  for  warmth,  and  food,  and  com- 
fort, and  scarce  willing  to  move  away.  And  many  of  them 
were  so  tame  that  they  quietly  presented  themselves  at  our 
back  door,  and  stood  there  with  their  coats  quite  stiff,  and 
their  flanks  drawn  in  and  panting,  and  icicles  sometimes 
on  their  chins,  and  their  great  eyes  fastened  wistfully  upon 
any  merciful  person,  craving  for  a  bit  of  food  and  a  drink 
of  water.  T  suppose  that  they  had  sense  enough  to  chew 
the  snow  and  melt  it;  at  any  rate,  all  the  springs  being 
frozen,  and  rivers  hidden  out  of  sight,  these  poor  things 
suffered  even  more  from  thirst  than  they  did  from  hunger. 

But  now  there  was  no  fear  of  thirst,  and  more  chance 
indeed  of  drowning;  for  a  heavy  gale  of  wind  arose,  with 
violent  rain  from  the  south-west,  which  lasted  almost  with- 
out a  pause  for  three  nights  and  two  days.  At  first  the 
rain  made  no  impression  on  the  bulk  of  snow,  but  ran 
from  every  sloping  surface,  and  froze  on  every  flat  one, 
through  the  coldness  of  the  earth;  and  so  it  became  im- 
possible for  any  man  to  keep  his  legs  without  the  help  of  a 
shodden  staff.  After  a  good  while,  however,  the  air  grow- 
ing very  much  warmer,  this  state  of  things  began  to  change, 
and  a  worse  one  to  succeed  it;  for  now  the  snow  came 
thundering  down  from  roof  and  rock,  and  ivied  tree,  and 
floods  began  to  roar  and  foam  in  every  trough  and  gully. 
The  drifts,  that  had  been  so  white  and  fair,  looked  yellow, 
and  smirched,  and  muddy,  and  lost  their  graceful  curves, 
and  molded  lines  and  airiness.     But  the  strangest  sight 


384  LORNA  noONE. 

of  all  to  me  was  in  the  bed  of  streams,  and  brooks,  and 
especially  of  the  Lynn  River.  It  was  worth  going  miles 
to  behold  such  a  thing,  for  a  man  might  never  have  the 
chance  again. 

Vast  drifts  of  snow  had  filled  the  valley,  and  piled  above 
the  river-course,  fifty  feet  high  in  many  places,  and  in  some 
as  much  as  a  hundred.  These  had  frozen  over  the  top,  and 
glanced  the  rain  away  from  them;  and  being  sustained  by 
rock  and  tree,  spanned  the  water  mightily.  But  meanwhile 
the  waxing  flood,  swollen  from  every  moor-land  hollow  and 
from  every  spouting  crag,  had  dashed  away  all  icy  fetters  and 
was  rolling  gloriously.  Under  white  fantastic  arches,  and 
long  tunnels  freaked  and  fretted,  and  between  pellucid 
pillars  jagged  with  nodding  architraves,  the  red  impetuous 
torrent  rushed,  and  the  brown  foam  whirled  and  flashed. 
I  was  half  inclined  to  jump  in  and  swim  through  such 
glorious  scenery;  for  nothing  used  to  please  me  more  than 
swimming  in  a  flooded  river.  But  I  thought  of  the  rocks, 
and  thought  of  the  cramp,  and  more  than  all,  of  Lorna; 
and  so,  between  one  thing  and  another,  I  let  it  r«ll  on 
without  me. 

It  was  now  high  time  to  work  very  hard;  both  to  make 
up  for  the  farm-work  lost  during  the  months  of  frost  and 
snow,  and  also  to  be  ready  for  a  great  and  vicious  attack 
from  the  Doones,  who  would  burn  us  in  our  beds  at  the 
earliest  opportunity.  Of  farm-work  there  was  a  little  yet 
for  even  the  most  zealous  man  to  begin  to  lay  his  hand  to: 
because  when  the  ground  appeared  through  the  crust  of 
bubbled  snow  (as  at  last  it  did,  though  not  as  my  Lorna  had 
expected,  at  the  first  few  drops  of  rain)  it  was  all  so  soaked 
and  sodden,  and,  as  we  call  it,  "  mucksy,"  that  to  meddle 
with  it  in  any  way  was  to  do  more  harm  than  good.  Never- 
theless there  was  yard -work  and  house- work,  and  tendance 
of  stock,  enough  to  save  any  man  from  idleness. 

As  for  Lorna,  she  would  come  out.  There  was  no  keep- 
ing her  in  the  house.  She  had  taken  up  some  peculiar 
notion  that  we  were  doing  more  for  her  than  she  had  any 
right  to,  and  that  she  must  earn  her  living  by  the  hard 
work  of  her  hands.  It  was  quite  in  vain  to  tell  her  that 
she  was  expected  to  do  nothing,  and  far  worse  than  vain 
(for  it  made  her  cry  sadly)  if  any  one  assured  her  that  she 
could  do  no  good  at  all.  "  She  even  began  upon  mother's 


SQ  UIRE  FA  GO  US  MAKES  SOME  L  UCKY  HITS,       385 

garden  before  the  snow  was  clean  gone  from  it,  and  sowed 
a  beautiful  row  of  peas,  every  one  of  which  the  mice  ate. 

But  though  it  was  very  pretty  to  watch  her  working  for 
her  very  life,  as  if  the  maintenance  of  the  household  hung 
upon  her  labors,  yet  I  was  grieved  for  many  reasons,  and 
so  was  mother  also.  In  the  first  place,  she  was  too  fair  and 
dainty  for  this  rough,  rude  work;  and  though  it  made  her 
cheeks  so  bright,  it  surely  must  be  bad  for  her  to  get  her 
little  feet  so  wet.  Moreover,  we  could  not  bear  the  idea 
that  she  should  labor  for  her  keep;  and  again  (which  was 
the  worst  of  all  things,  mother's  garden  lay  exposed  to  a 
dark,  deceitful  coppice,  where  a  man  might  lurk,  and 
watch  all  the  fair  gardener's  doings.  It  was  true  that  none 
could  get  at  her  thence  while  the  brook,  which  ran  between, 
poured  so  great  a  torrent.  Still,  the  distance  was  but 
little  for  a  gun  to  carry,  if  any  one  could  be  brutal  enough 
to  point  a  gun  at  Lorna.  I  thought  that  none  could  be 
found  to  do  it;  but  mother,  having  more  experience,  was 
not  so  certain  of  mankind. 

Now  in  spite  of  the  floods,  and  the  sloughs  being  out, 
and  the  state  of  the  roads  most  perilous,  Squire  Faggus 
came  at  last,  riding  his  famous  strawberry  mare.  There 
was  a  great  ado  between  him  and  Annie,  as  you  may  well 
suppose,  after  some  four  months  of  parting.  And  so  we 
left  them  alone  awhile,  to  coddle  over  their  raptures.  But 
when  they  were  tired  of  that,  or  at  least  had  time  enough 
to  be  so,  mother  and  I  went  in  to  know  what  news  Tom 
had  brought  with  him.  Though  he  did  not  seem  to  want 
us  yet,  he  made  himself  agreeable,  and  so  we  sent  Annie 
to  cook  the  dinner,  while  her  sweetheart  should  tell  us 
everything. 

Tom  Faggus  had  very  good  news  to  tell,  and  he  told  it 
with  such  force  of  expression  as  made  us  laugh  very 
heartily.  He  had  taken  up  his  purchase  from  old  Sir 
Roger  Basset  of  a  nice  bit  of  land  to  the  south  of  the  moors, 
and  in  the  parish  of  Holland.  When  the  lawyers  knew 
thoroughly  who  he  was,  and  how  he  had  made  his  money, 
they  behaved  uncommonly  well  to  him,  and  showed  great 
sympathy  with  his  pursuits.  He  put  them  up  to  a  thing 
or  two;  and  they  poked  him  in  the  ribs,  and  said  that  he 
was  quite  a  boy;  but  of  the  right  sort,  none  the  less.  And 
so  they  made  old  Squire  Bassett  pay  the  bill  for  both  sides; 


886  LORNA  tfOONB. 

and  all  he  got  for  three  hundred  acres  was  a  hundred  and 
twenty  pounds,  though  Tom  had  paid  five  hundred.  But 
lawyers  know  that  this  must  be  so,  in  spite  of  all  their 
endeavors;  and  the  old  gentleman,  who  now  expected  to 
find  a  bill  for  him  to  pay,  almost  thought  himself  a  rogue 
for  getting  anything  out  of  them. 

It  is  true  that  the  land  was  poor  and  wild,  and  the  soil 
exceeding  shallow;  lying  on  the  slope  of  rock,  and  burned 
up  in  hot  summers.  But  with  us  hot  summers  are  things 
known  by  tradition  only  (as  this  great  winter  may  be);  we 
generally  have  more  moisture,  especially  in  July,  than  we 
well  know  what  to  do  with.  I  have  known  a  fog  for  a 
fortnight  at  the  summer  solstice,  and  farmers  talking  in 
church  about  it  when  they  ou^ht  to  be  praying.  But  it 
always  contrives  to  come  right  in  the  end,  as  other  visita- 
tions do,  if  we  take  them  as  true  visits,  and  receive  them 
kindly. 

Now  this  farm  of  Squire  Faggus  (as  he  truly  now  had  a 
right  to  be  called)  was  of  the  very  finest  pasture  when  it 
got  good  store  of  rain.  And  Tom,  who  had  ridden  the 
Devonshire  roads  with  many  a  reeking  jacket,  knew  right 
well  that  he  might  trust  the  climate  for  that  matter.  The 
herbage  was  of  the  very  sweetest,  and  the  shortest,  and  the 
closest,  having  perhaps  from  ten  to  eighteen  inches  of 
wholesome  soil  between  it  and  the  solid  rock.  Tom  saw  at 
once  what  it  was  fit  for — the  breeding  of  fine  cattle. 

Being  such  a  hand  as  he  was  at  making  the  most  of 
everything,  both  his  own  and  other  people's  (although  so 
free  in  scattering  when  the  humor  lay  upon  him),  he  had 
actually  turned  to  his  own  advantage  that  extraordi- 
nary weather  which  had  so  impoverished  every  one 
around  him.  For  he  taught  his  Winnie  (who  knew  his 
meaning  as  well  as  any  child  could,  and  obeyed  not  only 
his  word  of  mouth,  but  every  glance  he  gave  her),  to  go 
forth  in  the  snowy  evenings  when  horses  are  seeking  every- 
where (be  they  wild  or  tame)  for  fodder  and  for  shelter, 
and  to  whinny  to  the  forest  ponies,  miles  away  from  home, 
perhaps,  and  lead  them  all,  with  rare  appetite,  and  promise 
of  abundance,  to  her  master's  homestead.  He  shod  good 
Winnie  in  such  a  manner  that  she  could  not  sink  in  the 
snow;  and  he  clad  her  over  the  loins  with  a  sheep-skin, 
dyed  to  her  own  color,  which  the  wild  horses  were  never 


SQ UIRE  FA0GU8  MAKES  SOME  L UCKY  HITS.       387 

tired  of  coming  up  and  sniffing  at;  taking  it  for  an  especial 
gift  and  proof  of  inspiration.  And  Winnie  never  came 
home  at  night  without  at  least  a  score  of  ponies  trotting 
shyly  after  her,  tossing  their  heads  and  their  tails  in  turn, 
and  making  believe  to  be  very  wild,  although  hard  pinched 
by  famine.  Of  course  Tom  would  get  them  all  into  his  pound 
in  about  five  minutes;  for  he  himself  could  neigh  in  a 
manner  which  went  to  the  heart  of  the  wildest  horse. 
And  then  he  fed  them  well,  and  turned  them  into  his 
great  cattle-pen,  to  abide  their  time  for  breaking  when  the 
snow  and  frost  should  be  over. 

He  had  gotten  more  than  three  hundred  now  in  this 
sagacious  manner;  and  he  said  it  was  the  finest  sight  to 
see  their  mode  of  carrying  on.  llow  they  would  snort, 
and  stamp,  and  fume,  and  prick  their  ears,  and  rush  back- 
ward, and  lash  themselves  with  their  long  rough  tails,  and 
shake  their  jagged  manes,  and  scream,  and  fall  upon  one 
another,  if  a  strange  man  came  anigh  them.  But  as  for 
feeding-time,  Tom  said  it  was  better  than  fifty  plays  to 
watch  them,  and  the  tricks  they  were  up  to,  to  cheat  their 
feeders,  and  one  anotlier.  I  asked  him  how  on  earth  he 
had  managed  to  get  fodder,  in  such  impassable  weather, 
for  such  a  herd  of  horses;  but  he  said  that  they  lived  upon 
straw  and  sawdust;  and  he  knew  that  I  did  not  believe 
him,  any  more  than  about  his  star-shavings.  And  this 
was  just  the  thing  he  loved — to  mystify  honest  people,  and 
be  a  great  deal  too  knowing.  However,  I  may  judge  him 
harshly,  because  I  myself  tell  everything. 

I  asked  him  what  he  meant  to  do  with  all  that  enormous 
lot  of  horses,  and  why  he  had  not  exerted  his  wits  to  catch 
the  red  deer  as  well.  He  said  that  the  latter  would  have 
been  against  the  laws  of  venery,  and  might  have  brought 
him  into  trouble;  but  as  for  disposing  of  his  stud,  it 
would  give  him  little  difficulty.  He  would  break  them 
when  the  spring  weather  came  on,  and  deal  with  them  as 
they  required,  and  keep  the  handsomest  for  breeding.  The 
rest  he  would  dispatch  to  London,  where  he  knew  plenty 
of  horse  dealers;  and  he  doubted  not  that  they  would  fetch 
him  as  much  as  ten  pounds  apiece  all  round,  being  now  in 
great  demand.  I  told  him  I  wished  that  he  might  get  it: 
but,  as  it  proved  afterward,  he  did. 

Then  he  pressed  us  both  on  another  point — the  time  for 


388  LORNA  BOONE. 

his  marriage  to  Annie:  and  mother  looked  at  me  to  say 
when,  and  I  looked  back  at  mother.  However,  knowing 
something  of  the  world,  and  unable  to  make  any  further 
objection  by  reason  of  his  prosperity,  I  said  that  we  must 
even  do  as  the  fashionable  people  did,  and  allow  the  maid 
herself  to  settle  when  she  would  leave  home  and  all.  And 
this  I  spoke  with  a  very  bad  grace,  being  perhaps  of  an 
ancient  cast,  and  overfond  of  honesty — I  mean,  of  course, 
among  lower  people. 

But  Tom  paid  little  heed  to  this,  knowing  the  world  a 
great  deal  better  than  ever  I  could  pretend  to  do;  and 
being  ready  to  take  a  thing  upon  which  he  had  set  his 
mind,  whether  it  came  with  a  good  grace,  or  whether  it 
came  with  a  bad  one.  And  seeing  that  it  would  be  awk- 
ward to  provoke  my  anger,  he  left  the  room  before  more 
words,  to  submit  himself  to  Annie. 

Upon  this  I  went  in  search  of  Lorna,  to  tell  her  of 
our  cousin's  arrival,  and  to  ask  whether  she  would  think 
fit  to  see  him,  or  to  dine  by  herself  that  day;  for  she 
should  do  exactly  as  it  pleased  her  in  everything,  while 
remaining  still  our  guest.  But  I  rather  wished  that  she 
might  choose  not  to  sit  in  Tom's  company,  though  she 
might  be  introduced  to  him.  Not  but  what  he  could 
bohave  quite  as  well  as  1  could,  and  much  better  as  re- 
garded elegance  and  assurance,  only  that  his  honesty  had 
not  been  as  one  might  desire.  But  Lorna  had  some 
curiosity  to  know  what  this  famous  man  was  like,  and 
declared  that  she  would  by  all  means  have  the  pleasure 
of  dining  with  him,  if  he  did  not  object  to  her  com- 
pany on  the  ground  of  the  Doone's  dishonesty:  more- 
over, she  said  that  it  would  seem  a  most  foolish  air  on 
her  part,  and  one  which  would  cause  the  greatest  pain  to 
Annie,  who  had  been  so  good  to  her,  if  she  should  refuse 
to  sit  at  table  with  a  man  who  held  the  King's  pardon, 
and  was  now  a  pattern  of  honesty. 

Against  this  I  had  not  a  word  to  say;  and  could  not  help 
acknowledging  in  my  heart  that  she  was  right,  as  well  as 
wise,  in  her  decision.  And  afterward  I  discovered  that 
mother  would  have  been  much  displeased  if  she  had  de- 
cided otherwise. 

Accordingly  she  turned  away,  with  one  of  her  very  sweet- 
est smiles  (whose  beauty  none  can  describe),  saying  that 


SQUIRE  FAQG US  MAKES  SOME  L UCKT  HITS.        389 

she  must  not  meet  a  man  of  such  fashion  and  renown  in 
her  common  gardening  frock,  but  must  try  to  look  as  nice 
as  she  could,  if  only  in  honor  of  dear  Annie.  And  truth 
to  tell,  when  she  came  to  dinner,  everything  about  her 
was  the  neatest  and  prettiest  that  can  possibly  be  imagined. 
She  contrived  to  match  the  colors  so,  to  suit  one  another 
and  her  own,  and  yet  with  a  certain  delicate  harmony  of 
contrast,  and  the  shape  of  everything  was  so  nice,  that 
when  she  came  into  the  room,  with  a  crown  of  winning 
modesty  upon  the  consciousness  of  beauty,  I  was  quite  as 
proud  as  if  the  Queen  of  England  entered. 

My  mother  could  not  help  remarking,  though  she  knew 
that  it  was  not  mannerly,  how  like  a  princess  Lorna  looked 
now  she  had  her  best  things  on:  but  two  things  caught 
Squire  Faggus'  eyes,  after  he  had  made  a  most  gallant  bow, 
and  received  a  most  graceful  courtesy;  and  he  kept  his 
bright,  bold  gaze  upon  them,  first  on  one  and  then  on  the 
other,  until  my  darling  was  hot  with  blushes,  and  I  was 
ready  to  knock  him  down,  if  he  had  not  been  our  visitor. 
But  here,  again,  I  should  have  been  wrong,  as  I  was  apt  to 
be  in  those  days;  for  Tom  intended  no  harm  whatever  and 
his  gaze  was  of  pure  curiosity,  though  Annie  herself  was 
vexed  with  it.  The  two  objects  of  his  close  regard  were 
first,  and  most  worthily,  Lorna^s  face;  and  secondly,  the 
ancient  necklace  restored  to  her  by  Sir  Ensor  Doone. 

Now  wishing  to  save  my  darling's  comfort,  and  to  keep 
things  quiet,  I  shouted  out  that  dinner  was  ready,  so  that 
half  the  parish  could  hear  me;  upon  which  my  mother 
laughed,  and  chid  me,  and  dispatched  her  guests  before 
her.  And  a  very  good  dinner  we  made,  I  remember,  and  a 
very  happy  one;  attending  to  the  women  first,  as  now  is 
the  manner  of  eating,  except  among  the  workmen.  With 
them,  of  course,  it  is  needful  that  the  man  (who  has  his 
hours  fixed)  should  be  served  first,  and  make  the  utmost 
of  his  time  for  feeding;  while  the  women  may  go  on,  as 
much  as  ever  they  please,  afterward.  But  with  us,  who 
are  not  bound  to  time,  there  is  no  such  reason  to  be 
quoted;  and  the  women  being  the  weaker  vessels,  should 
be  the  first  to  begin  to  fill.     And  so  we  always  arranged  it. 

Now  though  our  Annie  was  a  graceful  maid,  and  Lizzie 
a  very  learned  one,  you  should  have  seen  how  differently 
Lorna  managed   her   dining;  she   never  took   more*  thao 


390  LORNA  DOONE, 

about  a  quarter  of  a  mouthful  at  a  time,  and  she  never  ap- 
peared to  be  chewing  that,  although  she  must  have  done 
so.  Indeed  she  appeared  to  dine  as  if  it  were  a  matter  of 
no  consequence,  and  as  if  she  could  think  of  other  things 
more  than  of  her  business.  All  this,  and  her  own  manner 
of  eating,  I  described  to  Eliza  once,  when  I  wanted  to  vex 
her  for  something  very  spiteful  that  she  had  said;  and  I 
never  succeeded  so  well  before,  for  the  girl  was  quite  out- 
rageous, having  her  own  perception  of  it,  which  made  my 
observation  ten  times  as  bitter  to  her.  And  I  am  not  sure 
but  what  she  ceased  to  like  poor  Lorna  from  that  day:  and 
if  so,  I  was  quite  paid  out,  as  I  well  deserved,  for  my  bit 
of  satire. 

For  it  strikes  me  that,  of  all  human  dealings,  satire  is 
the  very  lowest,  and  most  mean  and  common.  It  is  the 
equivalent  in  words  for  what  bullying  is  in  deeds;  and  no 
more  bespeaks  a  clever  man  than  the  other  does  a  brave 
one.  These  two  wretched  tricks  exalt  a  fool  in  his  own 
low  esteem,  but  never  in  his  neighbor's;  for  the  deep 
common  sense  of  our  nature  tells  that  no  man  of  a  genial 
heart,  or  of  any  spread  of  mind,  can  take  pride  in  either. 
And  though  a  good  man  may  commit  the  one  fault  or  the 
other,  now  and  then  by  way  of  outlet,  he  is  sure  to  have 
compunctions  soon,  and  to  scorn  himself  more  than  the 
sufferer. 

Now  when  the  young  maidens  were  gone — for  we  had 
quite  a  high  dinner  of  fashion  that  day,  with  Betty  Mux- 
worthy  waiting,  and  Gwenny  Carfax  at  the  gravy — and 
only  mother,  and  Tom,  and  I  remained  at  the  white  deal 
table,  with  brandy,  and  schnapps,  and  hot-water  jugs. 
Squire  Faggus  said  quite  suddenly,  and  perhaps  on  purpose 
to  take  us  aback  in  case  of  our  hiding  anything. 

"  What  do  you  know  of  the  history  of  that  beautiful 
maiden,  good  mother?'^ 

"  Not  half  so  much  as  my  son  does,''  mother  answered, 
with  a  soft  smile  at  me:  '^and  when  John  does  not  choose 
to  tell  a  thing,  wild  horses  will  not  pull  it  out  of  him." 

"That  is  not  at  all  like  me,  mother,"  I  replied,  rather 
sadly:  "you  know  almost  every  word  about  Lorna  quite 
as  well  as  I  do." 

"Almost  every  word,  I  believe,  John;  for  you  never  tell 
a  falsehood.  But  the  few  unknown  may  be  of  all  the  most 
important  to  me." 


SQ UIRE  FAQQUS  MA KES  SOME  L UCKY  HITS.       391 

To  this  I  made  no  answer,  for  fear  of  going  beyond  the 
truth,  or  else  of  making  mischief.  Not  that  I  had,  or 
wished  to  have  any  mystery  with  mother;  neither  was 
there,  in  purest  truth,  any  mystery  in  the  matter,  to  the 
utmost  of  my  knowledge.  And  the  only  things  that  I  had 
kept  back,  solely  for  mother's  comfort,  were  the  death  of 
poor  Lord  Alan  Brand ir  (if  indeed  he  were  dead),  and  the 
connection  of  Marwood  de  Whichehalse  with  the  dealings 
of  the  Doones,  and  the  threats  of  Carver  Doone  against 
my  own  prosperity;  and  maybe  one  or  two  little  things, 
harrowing  more  than  edifying. 

"Come,  come,"  said  Master  Faggus,  smiling  very  pleas- 
antly, **you  two  understand  each  other,  if  any  two  on 
earth  do.  Ah,  if  I  only  had  a  mother,  how  different  I 
might  have  been!"  And  with  that  he  sighed,  in  the  tone 
which  alwa3's  overcame  mother  upon  the  subject,  and  had 
something  to  do  with  iiis  getting  Annie:  and  then  he  pro- 
duced his  pretty  box,  full  of  rolled  tobacco,  and  offered 
me  one,  as  I  now  had  joined  the  goodly  company  of 
smokers.  So  1  took  it,  and  watched  what  he  did  with  his 
own,  lest  I  might  go  wrong  about  mine. 

But  when  our  cylinders  were  both  lighted,  and  I  enjoy- 
ing mine  wonderfully,  and  astonishing  mother  by  my  skill, 
Tom  Faggus  told  us  that  he  was  sure  he  had  seen  my 
Lorna's  face  before,  many  and  many  years  ago,  when  she 
was  quite  a  little  child,  but  he  could  not  remember  where 
it  was,  or  anything  more  about  it  at  present;  though  he 
would  try  to  do  so  afterward.  He  could  not  be  mistaken, 
he  said,  for  he  had  noticed  her  eyes  especially,  and  had 
never  seen  such  eyes  before,  neither  again,  until  this  day. 
I  asked  him  if  he  had  ever  ventured  into  the  Doone-valley; 
but  he  shook  his  head,  and  replied  that  he  valued  his  life 
a  deal  too  much  for  that.  Then  we  put  it  to  him,  whether 
anything  might  assist  his  memory;  but  he  said  that  he 
knew  not  of  aught  to  do  so  unless  it  were  another  glass  of 
schnapps. 

This  being  provided,  he  grew  very  wise,  and  told  us 
clearly  and  candidly  that  we  were  both  very  foolish.  For 
he  said  that  we  were  keeping  Lorna  at  the  risk  not  only  of 
our  stock,  and  the  house  above  our  heads,  but  also  of  our 
precious  lives;  and  after  all,  was  she  worth  it,  although  so 
very  beautiful?    Upon  which  I  told  him,  with  indignation. 


392  LORNA  BOONE. 

that  her  beauty  was  the  least  part  of  her  goodness,  and 
that  I  would  thank  him  for  his  opinion  when  I  had  re- 
quested it. 

"Bravo,  our  John  Ridd!"  he  answered;  *' fools  will  be 
fools  till  the  end  of  the  chapter;  and  I  might  be  as  big  a 
one  if  I  were  in  thy  shoes,  John.  Nevertheless,  in  the 
name  of  God,  don't  let  that  helpless  child  go  about  with  a 
thing  worth  half  the  county  on  her." 

"  She  is  worth  all  the  county  herself,''  said  I,  ''  and  all 
England  put  together;  but  she  has  nothing  worth  half  a 

rick  of  hay  upon  her;  for  the  ring  I  gave  her  cost  only " 

and  here  I  stopped,  for  mother  was  looking,  and  I  never 
would  tell  her  how  much  it  had  cost  me;  though  she  had 
tried  fifty  times  to  find  out. 

''Tush,  the  ring!"  Tom  Faggus  cried,  with  a  contempt 
that  moved  me.  **  I  would  never  have  stopped  a  man  for 
that.  But  the  necklace,  you  great  oaf,  the  necklace  is 
worth  all  your  farm  put  together,  and  your  Uncle  Ben's 
fortune  to  the  back  of  it;  ay,  and  all  the  town  of  Dul- 
verton." 

"What!"  said  I;  "that  common  glass  thing,  which  she 
has  had  from  her  childhood!" 

"  Glass,  indeed!  They  are  the  finest  brilliants  ever  I 
set  eyes  on;  and  I  have  handled  a  good  many." 

"  Surely,"  cried  mother,  now  flushing  as  red  as  Tom's 
own  cheeks,  with  excitement,  "  you  must  be  wrong,  or  the 
young  mistress  would  herself  have  known  it." 

I  was  greatly  pleased  with  my  mother  for  calling  Lorna 
"the  young  mistress;"  it  was  not  done  for  the  sake  of  her 
diamonds,  whether  they  were  glass  or  not;  but  because  she 
felt,  as  I  had  done,  that  Tom  Faggus,  a  man  of  no  birth 
whatever,  was  speaking  beyond  his  mark  in  calling  a  lady 
like  Lorna  a  "helpless  child,"  as  well  as  in  his  general 
tone,  which  displayed  no  deference.  He  might  have  been 
used  to  the  quality,  in  the  way  of  stopping  their  coaches, 
or  roystering  at  hotels  with  them;  but  he  never  had  met  a 
high  lady  before,  in  equality,  and  upon  virtue;  and  we 
both  felt  that  he  ought  to  have  known  it,  and  to  have 
thanked  us  for  the  opportunity;  in  a  word,  to  have  be- 
haved a  great  deal  more  humbly  than  he  had  even  tried 
to  do. 

"  Trust  me,"  answered   Tom,  in  his  loftiest  manner. 


SQ UIRE  FAGG  US  MAKES  SOME  L  UCKT  HITS.       393 

which  Aunie  said  was  *^  so  noble,"  but  which  seemed  to 
me  rather  flashy,  *'  trust  me,  good  mother,  and  simple 
John,  for  knowing  brilliants  when  I  see  them.  I  would 
have  stopped  an  eight-horse  coach,  with  four  carbined  out- 
riders, for  such  a  booty  as  that.  But,  alas!  those  days  are 
over;  those  were  days  worth  living  in.  Ah,  I  never  shall 
know  the  like  again.     How  fine  it  was  by  moonlight!" 

**  Master  Faggus,"  began  my  mother,  with  a  manner  of 
some  dignity,  such  as  she  could  sometimes  use  by  right  of 
her  integrity  and  thorough  kindness  to  every  one,  "  this  is 
not  the  tone  in  which  you  have  hitherto  spoken  to  me 
about  your  former  pursuits  and  life.     I  fear  that  the 

spirits "  but  here  she  stopped,  because  the  spirits  were 

her  own,  and  Tom  was  our  visitor — ^*  what  I  mean.  Master 
Faggus,  is  this:  You  have  won  my  daughter's  heart  some- 
how; and  you  won  my  consent  to  the  matter  through  your 
honest  sorrow,  and  manly  undertaking  to  lead  a  different 
life,  and  touch  no  property  but  your  own.  Annie  is 
my  eldest  daughter,  and  the  child  of  a  most  upright  man. 
I  love  her  best  of  all  on  earth,  next  to  my  boy  John,  here" — 
here  mother  gave  me  a  mighty  squeeze,  to  be  sure  that  she 
would  have  me  at  least — *'  and  1  will  not  risk  my  Annie's 
life  with  a  man  who  yearns  for  the  highway." 

Having  made  this  very  long  speech  (for  her),  mother 
came  home  upon  my  shoulder,  and  wept  so  that  (but  for 
heeding  her)  I  would  have  taken  Tom  by  the  nose,  and 
thrown  him,  and  Winnie  after  him,  over  our  farm-yard 
gate.  For  I  am  violent  when  roused,  and  freely  hereby  ac- 
knowledge it;  though  even  my  enemies  will  own  that  it 
takes  a  great  deal  to  rouse  me.  But  I  do  consider  the 
grief  and  tears  (when  justly  caused)  of  my  dearest  friends 
to  be  a  great  deal  to  rouse  me. 


394  LOBNA  BOONE, 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

JEREMY     IN     DANGER. 

Nothing  very  long  abides,  as  the  greatest  of  all  writers 
(in  whose  extent  I  am  forever  lost  in  raptured  wonder,  and 
yet  forever  quite  at  home,  as  if  his  heart  were  mine, 
although  his  brains  so  different),  in  a  word,  as  Mr.  William 
Shakespeare,  in  every  one  of  his  works,  insists  with  a 
humored  melancholy.  And  if  my  journey  to  London  led 
to  nothing  else  of  advancement,  it  took  me  a  hundred 
years  in  front  of  what  I  might  else  have  been,  by  the  most 
simple  accident. 

Two  women  were  scolding  one  another  across  the  road, 
very  violently,  both  from  upstair  windows;  and  I,  in  my 
hurry  for  quiet  life,  and  not  knowing  what  might  come 
down  upon  me,  quickened  my  step  for  the  nearest  corner. 
But  suddenly  something  fell  on  my  head;  and  at  first  I 
was  afraid  to  look,  especially  as  it  weighed  heavily.  But 
hearing  no  breakage  of  ware,  and  only  the  other  scold 
laughing  heartily,  I  turned  me  about  and  espied  a  book, 
which  one  had  cast  at  the  other,  hoping  to  break  her 
window.  So  I  took  the  book,  and  tendered  it  at  the  door 
of  the  house  from  which  it  had  fallen;  but  the  watchman 
came  along  just  then,  and  the  man  at  the  door  declared 
that  it  never  came  from  their  house,  and  begged  me  to  say 
no  more.  This  I  promised  readily,  never  wishing  to  make 
mischief;  and  I  said,  ^'  Good  sir,  now  take  the  book,  and  I 
will  go  on  to  my  business.'*  But  he  answered  that  he 
would  do  no  such  thing,  for  the  book  alone,  being  hurled 
so  hard,  would  convict  his  people  of  a  lewd  assault;  and  he 
begged  me,  if  I  would  do  a  good  turn,  to  put  the  book 
under  my  coat  and  go.  And  so  I  did — in  part,  at  least. 
For  I  did  not  put  the  book  under  my  coat,  but  went  along 
with  it  openly,  looking  for  any  to  challenge  it.     Now  this 


JERHMY  m  DANGER.  395 

book,  so  acquired,  has  been  not  only  the  joy  of  my  younger 
days,  and  main  delight  of  my  manhood,  but  also  the  com- 
fort, and  even  the  hope,  of  my  now  declining  years.  In  a 
word,  it  is  next  to  my  Bible  to  me,  and  written  in  equal 
English;  and  if  you  espy  any  goodness  whatever  in  my 
own  loose  style  of  writing,  you  must  not  thank  me,  John 
Ridd,  for  it,  but  the  writer,  who  holds  the  champion's  belt 
in  wit,  as  I  once  did  in  wrestling. 

Now,  as  nothing  very  long  abides,  it  cannot  be  expected 
that  a  woman's  anger  should  last  very  long,  if  she  be  at  all 
of  the  proper  sort.  And  my  mother,  being  one  of  the  very 
best,  could  not  long  retain  her  wrath  against  the  Squire 
Faggus,  especially  when  she  came  to  reflect  upon  Annie's 
suggestion,  how  natural,  and,  one  might  say,  how  inevita- 
ble it  was  that  a  young  man  fond  of  adventure  and  cliange, 
and  winning  good  profits  by  jeopardy,  should  not  settle 
down  without  some  regret  to  a  fixed  abode  and  a  life  of 
sameness,  however  safe  and  respectable.  And  even  as 
Annie  put  the  case,  Tom  deserved  the  greater  credit  foj 
vanquishing  so  nobly  these  yearnings  of  his  nature;  and  \\ 
seemed  very  hard  to  upbraid  him,  considering  how  good 
his  motives  were ;  neither  could  Annie  understand 
how  mother  could  reconcile  it  with  her  knowledge  of  the 
Bible,  and  the  one  sheep  that  was  lost,  and  the  hundredth 
piece  of  silver,  and  the  man  that  went  down  to  Jericho. 

Whether  Annie's  logic  was  good  and  sound,  I  am  sure  1 
can  not  tell;  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  she  ought  to  have 
left  the  Jericho  traveler  alone,  inasmuch  as  he  rather  fell 
among  Tom  Fagguses  than  resembled  them.  However, 
her  reasoning  was  too  much  for  mother  to  hold  out  against; 
and  Tom  was  replaced,  and  more  than  that,  being  regarded 
now  as  an  injured  man.  But  how  my  mother  contrived  to 
know,  that  because  she  had  been  too  hard  upon  Tom,  he 
must  be  right  about  the  necklace  is  a  point  which  I  never 
could  clearly  perceive,  though  no  doubt  she  could  ex- 
plain it. 

To  prove  herself  right  in  the  conclusion,  she  went  her- 
self to  fetch  Lorna,  that  the  trinket  might  be  examined 
before  the  day  grew  dark.  My  darling  came  in,  with  a 
very  quick  glance  and' smile  at  my  cigarro  (for  I  was  having 
the  third  by  this  time,  to  keep  things  in  amity);  and  I 
waved  it  toward  her,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  You  see  that  I 


396  LORNA  DOONE, 

can  do  it."  And  then  mother  led  her  up  to  the  light,  for 
Tom  to  examine  her  necklace. 

On  the  shapely  curve  of  her  neck  it  hung,  like  dew- 
drops  upon  a  white  hyacinth;  and  I  was  vexed  that  Tom 
should  have  the  chance  to  see  it  there.  But  even  as  if  she 
had  read  my  thoughts,  or  outrun  them  with  their  own, 
Lorna  turned  away,  and  softly  took  the  jewels  from  the 
place  which  so  much  adorned  them.  And  as  she  turned 
away,  they  sparkled  through  the  rich  dark  waves  of  hair. 
Then  she  laid  the  glittering  circlet  in  my  mother's  hands, 
and  Tom  Faggus  took  it  eagerly,  and  bore  it  to  the 
window. 

'^  Don't  you  go  out  of  sight,"  I  said;  *'  you  can  not  re- 
sist such  things  as  those,  if  they  be  what  you  think 
them." 

"Jack,  I  shall  have  to  trounce  thee  yet.  I  am  now  a 
man  of  honor,  and  entitled  to  the  duello.  What  will  you 
take  for  it,  Mistress  Lorna?     At  a  hazard,  say,  now." 

**I  am  not  accustomed  to  sell  things,  sir,"  replied  Lorna, 
who  did  not  like  him  much,  else  she  would  have  answered 
sportively,  "  What  is  it  worth,  in  your  opinion  ?" 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  worth  five  pounds,  now  ?  " 

'*  Oh  no  !  I  never  had  so  much  money  as  that  in  all  my 
life.  It  is  very  bright,  and  very  pretty;  but  it  cannot  be 
worth  five  pounds,  I  am  sure." 

"What  a  chance  for  a  bargain!  Oh,  if  it  were  not  for 
Annie,  I  could  make  my  fortune." 

"But,  sir,  I  would  not  sell  it  to  you,  not  for  twenty 
times  five  pounds.  My  grandfather  was  so  kind  about  it; 
and  I  think  it  belonged  to  my  mother." 

"There  are  twenty-five  rose  diamonds  in  it,  and  twenty- 
five  large  brilliants  that  can  not  be  matched  in  London. 
How  say  you.  Mistress  Lorna,  to  a  hundred  thousand 
pounds?" 

My  darling's  eyes  so  flashed  at  this,  brighter  than  any 
diamonds,  that  I  said  to  myself,  "  Well,  all  have  faults; 
and  now  I  have  found  out  Lorna's — she  is  fond  of  money!" 
And  then  I  sighed  rather  heavily;  for  of  all  faults  this 
seems  to  me  one  of  the  worst  in  a  woman.  But  even  before 
my  sigh  was  finished,  I  had  cause  to  condemn  myself.  For 
Lorna  took  the  necklace  very  quietly  from  the  hand  of 
Squire  Faggus,  who  had  not  half  done  with  admiring  it, 


JEREMY  IN  DANGER,  SO*? 

and  she  went  up  to  my  mother  with  the  sweetest  smile  I 
ever  saw. 

"  Dear  kind  mother,  I  am  so  glad,"  she  said  ina  whisper, 
coaxing  mother  out  of  sight  of  all  but  me;  '*  now  you  will 
have  it,  won't  you,  dear?  And  I  shall  be  so  happy;  for  a 
thousandth  part  of  your  kindness  to  me  no  jewels  in  the 
world  can  match/' 

I  can  not  lay  before  you  the  grace  with  which  she  did  it, 
all  the  air  of  seeking  favor,  rather  than  conferring  it,  and 
the  high  bred  fear  of  giving  offense,  which  is  of  all  fears 
the  noblest.  Mother  knew  not  what  to  say.  Of  course 
she  would  never  dream  of  taking  such  a  gift  as  that;  and 
yet  she  saw  how  sadly  Lorna  would  be  disappointed. 
Therefore  mother  did  from  habit  what  she  almost  always 
did — she  called  me  to  help  her.  But  knowing  that  my 
eyes  were  full — for  anything  noble  moves  me  so,  quite  as 
rashly  as  things  pitiful — I  pretended  not  to  hear  my 
mother,  but  to  see  a  wild  cat  in  the  dairy. 

Therefore  I  cannot  tell  what  mother  said  in  reply  to 
Lorna;  for  when  I  came  back  quite  eager  to  let  my  love 
know  howl  worshiped  her,  and  how  deeply  I  was  ashamed 
of  myself  for  meanly  wronging  her  in  my  heart,  behold 
Tom  Faggus  had  gotten  again  the  necklace  which  had  such 
charms  for  him,  and  was  delivering  all  around  (but  espe- 
cially to  Annie,  who  was  wondering  at  his  learning)  a  dis- 
sertation on  precious  stones,  and  his  sentiments  about  those 
in  his  hand.  He  said  that  the  work  was  very  ancient,  but 
undoubtedly  very  good;  the  cutting  of  every  line  was  true, 
and  every  angle  was  in  its  place.  And  this  he  said  made 
all  the  difference  in  the  lustre  of  the  stone,  and  therefore 
in  its  value.  For  if  the  facets  were  ill-matched,  and  the 
points  of  light  so  ever  little  out  of  perfect  harmony,  all  the 
lustre  of  the  jewel  would  be  loose  and  wavering,  and  the 
central  fire  dulled,  instead  of  answering,  as  it  should,  to 
all  possibilities  of  gaze,  and  overpowering  any  eye  intent  on 
its  deeper  mysteries.  We  laughed  at  the  Squire's  disserta- 
tion; for  how  should  we  know  all  these  things,  being  nothing 
better,  and  indeed  much  worse,  than  a  mere  Northmolton 
blacksmith?  He  took  our  laughter  with  muck  good-nature, 
having  Annie  to  squeeze  his  hand  and  convey  her  grief  at 
our  ignorance;  but  he  said  that  of  one  thing  he  was  quite 
certain,  and  therein  I  believed  him:  to  wit,  that  a  trinket 


398  LORNA  DOONE. 

of  this  kind  never  could  have  belonged  to  any  ignoble 
family,  but  to  one  of  the  very  highest  and  most  wealthy  in 
England.  And,  looking  at  Lorna,  I  felt  that  she  must 
have  come  from  a  higher  source  than  the  very  best  of 
diamonds. 

Tom  Faggus  said  that  the  necklace  was  made,  he  would 
answer  for  it,  in  Amsterdam,  two  or  three  hundred  years 
ago,  long  before  London  jewelers  had  begun  to  meddle 
with  diamonds;  and  on  the  gold  clasp  he  found  some 
letters,  done  in  some  inverted  way,  the  meaning  of  which 
was  beyond  him;  also  a  bearing  of  some  kind,  which  he 
believed  was  a  mountain-cat.  And  thereupon  he  declared 
that  now  he  had  earned  another  glass  of  schnapps,  and 
would  Mistress  Lorna  mix  it  for  him? 

I  was  amazed  at  his  impudence;  and  Annie,  who  thought 
this  her  business,  did  not  look  best  pleased;  and  I  hoped 
that  Lorna  would  tell  him  at  once  to  go  and  do  it  for  him- 
self. But  instead  of  that  she  rose  to  do  it  with  a  soft 
humility,  which  went  direct  to  the  heart  of  Tom;  and  he 
leaped  up  with  a  curse  at  himself,  and  took  the  hot  water 
from  her,  and  would  not  allow  her  to  do  anything  except 
to  put  the  sugar  in;  and  then  he  bowed  to  her  grandly. 
I  knew  what  Lorna  was  thinking  of;  she  was  thinking  all 
the  time  that  her  necklace  had  been  taken  by  the  Doones 
with  violence  upon  some  great  robbery,  and  that  Squire 
Faggus  knew  it,  though  he  would  not  show  his  knowledge; 
and  that  this  was  perhaps  the  reason  why  mother  had  re- 
fused it  so. 

We  said  no  more  about  the  necklace  for  a  long  time 
afterward;  neither  did  my  darling  wear  it,  now  that  she 
knew  its  value,  but  did  not  know  its  history.  She  came 
to  me  the  very  next  day,  trying  to  look  cheerful,  and 
begged  me,  if  I  loved  her  (never  mind  how  little),  to  take 
charge  of  it  again,  as  I  once  had  done  before,  and  not  even 
to  let  her  know  in  what  place  I  stored  it.  I  told  her  that 
this  last  request  I  could  not  comply  with;  for  having  been 
round  her  neck  so  often,  it  was  now  a  sacred  thing,  more 
than  a  million  pounds  could  be.  Therefore  it  should  dwell 
for  the  present  in  the  neighborhood  of  my  heart,  and  so 
could  not  be  far  from  her.  At  this  she  smiled  her  own 
sweet  smile,  and  touched  my  forehead  with  her  lips,  and 
wished  that  she  could  only  learn  how  to  deserve  such  love 
9>s  mine. 


JEUEMT  IN  DANGER.  399 

Tom  Faggus  took  his  good  departure,  which  was  a  kind 
farewell  to  me,  on  the  very  day  I  am  speaking  of,  the  day 
after  his  arrival.  Tom  was  a  thoroughly  upright  man,  ac- 
cording to  his  own  standard;  and  you  might  rely  upon 
him  always,  up  to  a  certain  point,  I  mean,  to  be  there  or 
thereabouts.  But  sometimes  things  were  too  many  for 
Tom,  especially  with  ardent  spirits,  and  then  he  judged, 
perhaps  too  much,  with  only  himself  for  the  jury.  At  any 
rate,  I  would  trust  him  fully,  for  candor  and  for  honesty, 
in  almost  every  case  in  which  he  himself  could  have  no 
interest.  And  so  we  got  on  very  well  together;  and  he 
thought  me  a  fool,  and  I  tried  my  best  not  to  think  any- 
thing worse  of  him. 

Scarcely  was  Tom  clean  out  of  sight,  and  Annie's  tears 
not  dry  yet  (for  she  always  made  a  point  of  crying  upon  his 
departure),  when  in  came  Jeremy  Stickles,  splashed  with 
mud  from  head  to  foot,  and  not  in  the  very  best  of  humors, 
though  happy  to  get  back  again. 

*^  Curse  those  fellows!"  he  cried,  with  a  stamp  which 
sent  the  water  hissing  from  his  boot  among  the  embers; 
*'a  pretty  plight  you  may  call  this,  for  his  Majesty's  Com- 
missioner to  return  to  his  headquarters  in!  Annie,  my 
dear,'"  for  he  was  always  very  affable  with  Annie,  **  will 
you  help  me  off  with  my  overalls,  and  then  turn  your 
pretty  hand  to  the  gridiron?  Not  a  blessed  morsel  have  I 
touched  for  more  than  twenty-four  hours.'' 

"  Surely,  then,  you  must  be  quite  starving,  sir,"  my 
sister  replied  with  the  greatest  zeal;  for  she  did  love  a 
man  with  an  appetite;  'Miow  glad  I  am  that  the  fire  is 
clear!"  But  Lizzie,  who  happened  to  be  there,  said,  with 
her  peculiar  smile: 

"  Master  Stickles  must  be  used  to  it;  for  he  never  comes 
back  without  telling  us  that." 

''Hush!"  cried  Annie,  quite  shocked  with  her;  "how 
would  you  like  to  be  used  to  it?  Now,  Betty,  be  quick 
with  the  things  for  me.  Pork  or  mutton,  or  deer's  meat, 
sir?    We  have  some  cured  since  the  autumn." 

'•Oh,  deer's  meat,  by  all  means,"  Jeremy  Stickles  an- 
swered; "I  have  tasted  none  since  I  left  you,  though 
dreaming  of  it  often.  Well,  this  is  better  than  being 
chased  over  the  moors  for  one's  life,  John.  All  the  way 
from  Landacre  Bridge,  I  have  ridden  a  race  for  my  precious 


400  LORNA  BOONE. 

life,  at  the  peril  of  my  limbs  and  neck.  Three  great 
Doones  galloping  after  me,  and  a  good  job  for  me  that 
they  were  so  big,  or  they  must  have  overtaken  me.  Just  go 
and  see  to  my  horse,  John,  that^s  an  excellent  lad.  He 
deserves  a  good  turn,  this  day,  from  me;  and  I  will  render 
it  to  him." 

However,  he  left  me  to  do  it,  while  he  made  himself 
comfortable:  and  in  truth  the  horse  required  care;  he  was 
blown  so  that  he  could  hardly  stand,  and  plastered  with 
mud,  and  steaming  so  that  the  stable  was  quite  full  with 
it.  By  the  time  I  had  put  the  poor  fellow  to  rights,  his 
master  had  finished  dinner,  and  was  in  a  more  pleasant 
humor,  having  even  offered  to  kiss  Annie,  out  of  pure 
gratitude,  as  he  said;  but  Annio  answered  with  spirit  that 
gratitude  must  not  be  shown  by  increasing  the  obligation. 
Jeremy  made  reply  to  this  that  his  only  way  to  be  grateful 
then  was  to  tell  us  his  story;  and  so  he  did,  at  greater 
length  than  I  can  here  repeat  it;  for  it  does  not  bear  par- 
ticularly upon  Lorna's  fortunes. 

It  appears  that  as  he  was  riding  toward  us  from  the  town 
of  Southmolton,  in  Devonshire,  he  found  the  roads  very 
soft  and  heavy,  and  the  floods  out  in  all  directions;  but 
met  with  no  other  difficulty  until  he  came  to  Landacre 
Bridge.  He  had  only  a  single  trooper  with  him — a  man 
not  of  the  militia  but  of  the  King's  army,  whom  Jeremy 
had  brought  from  Exeter.  As  these  two  descended  toward 
the  bridge,  they  observed  that  both  the  Kensford  water  and 
the  River  Barle  were  pouring  down  in  mighty  floods  from 
the  melting  of  the  snow.  So  great  indeed  was  the  torrent, 
after  they  united,  that  only  the  parapets  of  the  bridge 
could  be  seen  above  the  water,  the  road  across  either  bank 
being  covered,  and  very  deep  on  the  hither  side.  The 
trooper  did  not  like  the  look  of  it,  and  proposed  to  ride 
back  again,  and  round  by  way  of  Simonsbath,  where  the 
stream  is  smaller.  But  Stickles  would  not  have  it  so,  and, 
dashing  into  the  river,  swam  his  horse  for  the  bridge,  and 
gained  it  with  some  little  trouble;  and  there  he  found  tlie 
water  not  more  than  up  to  his  horse's  knees,  perhaps.  On 
the  crown  of  the  bridge  he  turned  his  horse,  to  watch  the 
trooper's  passage,  and  to  help  him  with  directions;  when 
suddenly  he  saw  him  fall  headlong  into  the  torrent,  and 
heard  the  report  of  a  gun  from  behind,  and  felt  a  shock 


JEREMY  IN  DANQEll  401 

to  his  own  body,  such  as  lifted  him  out  of  the  saddle. 
Turning  round,  he  beheld  three  men  risen  up  from  behind 
the  hedge  on  one  side  of  his  onward  road,  two  of  them 
ready  to  load  again,  and  one  with  his  gun  unfired,  waiting 
to  get  good  aim  at  him.  Then  Jeremy  did  a  gallant  thing, 
for  which  I  doubt  whether  I  should  have  had  the  presence 
of  mind  in  the  danger.  He  saw  that  to  swim  his  horse 
back  again  would  be  almost  certain  death;  as  affording  such 
a  target  where  even  a  wound  must  be  fatal.  Therefore  he 
struck  the  spurs  into  the  nag,  and  rode  through  the  water 
straight  at  the  man  who  was  pointing  the  long  gun  at  him. 
If  the  horse  had  been  carried  off  his  legs,  there  must  have 
been  an  end  of  Jeremy;  for  the  other  men  were  getting 
ready  to  have  another  shot  at  him.  But  luckily  the  horse 
galloped  right  on,  without  any  need  for  swimming,  being 
himself  excited,  no  doubt,  by  all  he  had  seen  and  heard  of 
it.  And  Jeremy  lay  almost  flat  on  his  neck,  so  as  to  give 
little  space  for  good  aim,  with  the  mane  tossing  wildly  in 
front  of  him.  Now  if  that  young  fellow  with  the  gun  had 
had  his  brains  as  ready  as  his  flint  was,  he  would  have  shot 
the  horse  at  once,  and  then  had  Stickles  at  his  mercy;  but 
instead  of  that  he  let  fly  at  the  man,  and  missed  him  alto- 
gether, being  scared,  perhaps,  by  the  pistol  which  Jeremy 
showed  him  the  mouth  of.  And  galloping  by  at  full  speed, 
Master  Stickles  tried  to  leave  his  mark  behind  him  ;  for  he 
changed  the  aim  of  his  pistol  to  the  biggest  man,  who  was 
loading  his  gun  and  cursing  like  ten  cannons.  But  the 
pistol  missed  fire,  no  doubt  from  the  flood  which  had 
gurgled  in  over  the  holsters  ;  and  Jeremy  seeing  three 
horses  tethered  at  a  gate  just  up  the  hill,  knew  that  he 
had  not  yet  escaped,  but  had  more  of  danger  behind  him. 
He  tried  his  other  great  pistol  at  one  of  the  horses  tethered 
there,  so  as  to  lessen  (if  possible)  the  number  of  his  pur- 
suers. But  the  powder  again  failed  him  ;  and  he  durst  not 
stop  to  cut  the  bridles,  hearing  the  men  coming  up  the 
hill.  So  he  even  made  the  most  of  his  start,  thanking  God 
that  his  weight  was  light,  compared  at  least  to  what  theirs 
was. 

And  another  thing  he  had  noticed  which  gave  him  some 
hope  of  escaping — to-wit,  that  the  horses  of  the  Doones, 
although  very  handsome  animals,  were  suffering  still  from 
the  bitter  effects  of  the  late  long  frost  and   scarcity  of 


40^  LORNA  DOONE, 

fodder.  "  If  they  do  not  catch  me  up,  or  shoot  me,  iu  the 
course  of  the  first  two  miles,  I  may  see  my  home  again;'' 
this  was  what  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  turned  to  mark 
what  they  were  about  from  the  brow  of  the  steep  hill.  He 
saw  the  flooded  valley  shining  with  the  breadth  of  water, 
and  the  trooper's  horse  on  the  other  side,  shaking  his 
drenched  flanks,  and  neighing;  and  half-way  down  the 
hill  he  saw  the  three  Doones  mounting  hastily.  And  then 
he  knew  that  his  only  chance  lay  in  the  stoutness  of  his 
steed. 

The  horse  was  in  pretty  good  condition;  and  the  rider 
knew  him  thoroughly,  and  how  to  make  the  most  of  him; 
and  though  they  had  traveled  some  miles  that  day  through 
very  heavy  ground,  the  bath  in  the  river  had  washed  the 
mud  off,  and  been  some  refreshment.  Therefore,  Stickles 
encouraged  his  nag,  and  put  him  into  a  good  hand  gallop, 
heading  away  toward  Withycombe.  At  first  he  had  thought 
of  turning  to  the  right,  and  making  off  for  Withypool, 
a  mile  or  so  down  the  valley;  but  his  good  sense  told  him 
that  no  one  there  would  dare  to  protect  him  against  the 
Doones,  so  he  resolved  to  go  on  his  way,  yet  faster  than  he 
had  intended. 

The  three  villains  came  after  him  with  all  the  speed  they 
could  muster,  making  sure,  from  the  badness  of  the  road, 
that  he  must  stick  fast  ere  long,  and  so  be  at  their  mercy. 
And  this  was  Jeremy's  chiefest  fear;  for  the  ground  being 
soft  and  thoroughly  rotten,  after  so  much  frost  and  snow, 
the  poor  horse  had  terrible  work  of  it,  with  no  time  to  pick 
the  way;  and  even  more  good  luck  than  skill  was  needed 
to  keep  him  from  foundering.  How  Jeremy  prayed 
for  an  Exmoor  fog  (such  as  he  had  often  sworn  at),  that 
he  might  turn  aside  and  lurk,  while  his  pursuers  went  past 
him!  But  no  fog  came,  nor  even  a  storm  to  damp 
the  priming  of  their  guns;  neither  was  wood  or  coppice 
nigh,  nor  any  place  to  hide  in;  only  hills,  and  moor,  and 
valleys,  with  flying  shadows  over  them,  and  great  banks 
of  snow  in  the  corners.  At  one  time  poor  Stickles 
was  quite  in  despair;  for  after  leaping  a  little  brook 
which  crosses  the  track  at  Newland,  he  stuck  fast  in 
9.  "  dancing  bog,"  as  we  call  them  upon  Exmoor.  The 
horse  had  broken  through  the  crust  of  moss,  and  sedge, 
and  marish-weed,  and  could  do  nothing  but   wallow  and 


JEREMY  IN  DANGER.  403 

sink,  with  the  black  water  spirting  over  him.  And 
Jeremy,  struggling  with  all  his  might,  saw  the  three 
villains  now  topping  the  crest  less  than  a  fnrlong  behind 
him,  and  heard  them  shout  in  their  savage  delight.  With 
the  calmness  of  despair,  he  yet  resolved  to  have  one  more 
try  for  it;  and  scrambling  over  the  horse's  head,  gained 
firm  land,  and  tugged  at  the  bridle.  The  poor  nag  replied 
with  all  his  power  to  the  call  upon  his  courage,  and  reared 
his  fore  feet  out  of  the  slough,  and  with  straining  eyeballs 
gazed  at  him.  **  Now,"  said  Jeremy,  "  now,  my  line 
fellow!"  lifting  him  with  the  bridle;  and  the  brave  beast 
gathered  the  roll  of  his  loins,  and  sprung  from  his  quag- 
mired  haunches.  One  more  spring,  and  he  was  on  earth 
again,  instead  of  being  under  it;  and  Jeremy  leaped  on  his 
back,  and  stopped,  for  he  knew  that  they  would  fire.  Two 
bullets  whistled  over  him,  as  the  horse,  mad  with  fright, 
dashed  forward,  and  in  five  minutes  more  he  had  come  to 
the  Exe,  and  the  pursuers  had  fallen  behind  him.  The 
Exe,  though  a  much  smaller  stream  than  the  Barle,  now 
ran  in  a  foaming  torrent,  unbridged,  and  too  wide  for  leap- 
ing. But  Jeremy's  horse  took  the  water  well;  and  both  he 
and  his  rider  were  lightened,  as  well  as  comforted  by  it. 
And  as  they  passed  toward  Lucott  hill,  and  struck  upon 
the  founts  at  Lynn,  the  horses  of  the  three  pursuers  began 
to  tire  under  them.  Then  Jeremy  Stickles  knew  that  if 
he  could  only  escape  the  sloughs,  he  was  safe  for  the  pres- 
ent; and  so  he  stood  up  in  his  stirrups,  and  gave  them  a 
loud  halloo,  as  if  they  had  been  so  many  foxes. 

Their  only  answer  was  to  fire  the  remaining  charge  at 
him;  but  the  distance  was  too  great  for  any  aim  from  horse- 
back; and  the  dropping  bullet  idly  plowed  the  sod  upon 
one  side  of  him.  He  acknowledged  it  with  a  wave  of  his 
hat,  and  laid  one  thumb  to  his  nose,  in  the  manner  fash- 
ionable in  London  for  expression  of  contempt.  However, 
they  followed  him  yet  further,  hoping  to  make  him  pay 
out  dearly,  if  he  should  only  miss  the  track  or  fall  upon 
morasses.  But  the  neighborhood  of  our  Lynn  stream  is 
not  so  very  boggy;  and  the  King's  messenger  now  knew 
his  way  as  well  as  any  of  his  pursuers  did;  and  so  he  ar- 
rived at  Plovers  Barrows,  thankful  and  in  rare  appetite. 

**But  was  the  poor,  soldier  drowned?"  asked  Annie; 
''and  you  never  went  to  look  for  him!  Oh,  how  very 
dreadful!" 


404  LORNA  BOONE. 

''Shot  or  drowned,  I  know  not  which.  Thank  God,  it 
was  only  a  trooper.  But  they  shall  pay  for  it  as  dearly  as  if 
it  had  been  a  captain/^ 

*'  And  how  was  it  you  were  struck  by  a  bullet,  and  only 
shaken  in  your  saddle?  Had  you  a  coat  of  mail  on,  or  of 
Milanese  chain-armor?    Now,  Master  Stickles,  had  you?" 

*^Np,  Mistress  Lizzie;  we  do  not  wear  things  of  that 
kind  nowadays.  You  are  apt,  I  perceive,  at  romances. 
But  I  happened  to  have  a  little  flat  bottle  of  the  best  stone- 
ware slung  beneath  my  saddle-cloak,  and  filled  with  the 
very  best  eau  de  vie,  from  the  George  Hotel  at  South- 
molton.  The  brand  of  it  now  is  upon  my  back.  Oh,  the 
murderous  scoundrels,  what  a  brave  spirit  they  have 
spilled!" 

"  You  had  better  set  to  and  thank  God,"  said  I,  *'  that 
they  have  not  spilled  a  braver  one." 


EVERT  MAN  MUST  DEFEND  HIMSELF,  405 


CHAPTER    XLVIII. 

EVERY   MAN"   MUST  DEFEND   HIMSELF. 

It  was  only  right  in  Jeremy  Stickles,  and  of  the  simplest 
common  sense,  that  he  would  not  tell  before  our  girls 
what  the  result  of  his  journey  was.  But  he  led  me  aside  in 
the  course  of  the  evening,  and  told  me  all  about  it,  saying 
that  I  knew,  as  well  as  he  did,  that  it  was  not  woman's 
business.  This  I  took,  as  it  was  meant,  for  a  gentle  caution 
that  Lorna  (whom  he  had  not  seen  as  yet)  must  not  be 
informed  of  any  of  his  doings.  Herein  I  quite  agreed 
with  him;  not  only  for  his  furtherance,  but  because  I 
always  think  that  women,  of  whatever  mind,  are  best 
when  least  they  meddle  with  the  things  that  appertain  to 
men. 

Master  Stickles  complained  that  the  weather  had  been 
against  him  bitterly,  closing  all  the  roads  around  him; 
even  as  it  had  done  with  us.  It  had  taken  him  eight  days, 
he  said,  to  get  from  Exeter  to  Plymouth;  whither  he  fou*?i 
that  most  of  the  troops  had  been  drafted  off  from  Exeter. 
When  all  were  told,  there  was  but  a  battalion  of  one  of  the 
King's  horse  regiments,  and  two  companies  of  foot  soldiers; 
and  their  commanders  had  orders,  later  than  the  date  of 
Jeremy's  commission,  on  no  account  to  quit  the  southern 
coast  and  march  inland.  Therefore,  although  they  would 
gladly  have  come  for  a  brush  with  the  celebrated  Doones, 
it  was  more  than  they  durst  attempt,  in  the  face  of  their 
instructions.  However,  they  spared  him  a  single  trooper, 
as  a  companion  of  the  road,  and  to  prove  to  the  justices  of 
the  county,  and  the  lord -lieu  tenant,  that  he  had  their  ap- 
proval. 

To  these  authorities  Master  Stickles  now  was  forced  to 
address  himself,  although  he  would  rather  have  had  one 
trooper  than  a  score  from  the  very  best  train-bands.  For 
these  train-bands  had  afforded  very  good  soldiers  in  the 


406  LORNA  DOONE. 

time  of  the  civil  wars,  and  for  some  years  afterward;  but 
now  their  discipline  was  gone,  and  the  younger  generation 
had  seen  no  real  fighting.  Each  would  have  his  own 
opinion,  and  would  want  to  argue  it;  and  if  he  were  not 
allowed,  he  went  about  his  duty  in  such  a  temper  as  to 
prove  that  his  own  way  was  the  best. 

Neither  was  this  the  worst  of  it;  for  Jeremy  made  no 
doubt  but  what  (if  he  could  only  get  the  militia  to  turn 
out  in  force)  he  might  manage,  with  the  help  of  his  own 
men,  to  force  the  stronghold  of  the  enemy;  but  the  truth 
was  that  the  officers,  knowing  how  hard  it  would  be  to  col- 
lect their  men  at  that  time  of  the  year,  and  in  that  state 
of  the  weather,  began  with  one  accord  to  make  every  pos- 
sible excuse.  And  especially  they  pressed  this  point,  that 
Bagworthy  was  not  in  their  county;  the  Devonshire 
people  affirming  vehemently  that  it  lay  in  the  shire  of 
Somerset,  and  the  Somersetshire  folk  averring,  even  with 
imprecations,  that  it  lay  in  Devonshire.  Now  I  believe  the 
truth  to  be  that  the  boundary  of  the  two  counties,  as  well 
as  of  Oare  and  Brendon  parishes,  is  defined  by  the  Bagwor- 
thy river;  so  that  the  disputants  on  both  sides  were  both 
right  and  wrong. 

Upon  this.  Master  Stickles  suggested,  and  as  T  thought 
very  sensibly,  that  the  two  counties  should  unite,  and 
equally  contribute  to  the  extirpation  of  this  pest,  which 
shamed  and  injured  them  both  alike.  But  hence  arose  an- 
other difficulty;  for  the  men  of  Devon  said  they  would 
march  when  Somerset  had  taken  the  field;  and  the  sons  of 
Somerset  replied  that  indeed  they  were  quite  ready,  but 
what  were  their  cousins  of  Devonshire  doing?  And  so  it 
came  to  pass  that  the  King's  Commissioner  returned  with- 
out any  army  whatever,  but  with  promise  of  two  hundred 
men  when  the  roads  should  be  more  passable.  And  mean- 
while, what  were  we  to  do,  abandoned  as  we  were  to  the 
mercies  of  the  Doones,  with  only  our  own  hands  to  help  us? 
And  herein  I  grieved  at  my  own  folly  in  having  let  Tom 
Faggusgo,  whose  wit  and  courage  would  have  been  worth 
at  least  half  a  dozen  men  to  us?  Upon  this  matter  I  held 
long  council  with  my  good  friend  Stickles;  telling  him  all 
about  Lorna's  presence,  and  what  I  knew  of  her  history. 
He  agreed  with  me  that  we  could  not  hope  to  escape  an 
attack  from  the  outlaws,  and  the  more  especially  now  that 


EVERY  MAN  MUST  DEFEND  HIMSELF.  407 

they  knew  himself  to  be  returned  to  us.  Also  he  praised 
me  for  my  forethought  in  having  threshed  out  all  our  corn, 
and  hidden  the  produce  in  such  a  manner  that  they  were 
not  likely  to  find  it.  Furthermore,  he  recommended  that 
all  the  entrances  to  the  house  should  at  once  be  strength- 
ened and  a  watch  must  be  maintained  at  night;  and  he 
thought  it  wiser  that  I  should  go  (late  as  it  was)  to  Lyn- 
mouth,  if  a  horse  could  pass  the  valley,  and  fetch  every 
one  of  his  mounted  troopers  who  might  now  be  quartered 
there.  Also,  if  any  men  of  courage,  though  capable  only 
of  handling  a  pitchfork,  could  be  found  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, I  was  to  try  to  summon  them.  But  our  district  is 
so  thinly  peopled,  that  I  had  little  faith  in  this;  however, 
my  errand  was  given  me,  and  I  set  forth  upon  it,  for  John 
Fry  was  afraid  of  the  waters. 

Knowing  how  fiercely  the  floods  were  out,  I  resolved  to 
travel  the  higher  road,  by  Cosgate  and  through  Countis- 
bury;  therefore  I  swam  my  horse  through  the  Lynn  at  the 
ford  below  our  house  (where  sometimes  you  may  step 
across),  and  thence  galloped  up  and  along  the  hills.  I 
could  see  all  the  inland  valleys  ribboned  with  broad  waters, 
and  in  every  winding  crook  the  banks  of  snow  that  fed 
them;  while  on  my  right  the  turbid  sea  was  flaked  with 
April  showers.  But  when  I  descended  the  hill  toward 
Lynmouth,  I  feared  that  my  journey  was  all  in  vain. 

For  the  East  Lynn  (which  is  our  river)  was  ramping  and 
roaring  frightfully,  lashing  whole  trunks  of  trees  on  the 
rocks,  and  rending  them,  and  grinding  them.  And  into 
it  rushed  from  the  opposite  side  a  torrent  even  madder, 
upsetting  what  it  came  to  aid;  shattering  wave  with  boil- 
ing billow,  and  scattering  wrath  with  fury.  It  was  certain 
death  to  attempt  the  passage,  and  the  little  wooden  foot- 
bridge had  been  carried  away  long  ago.  And  the  men  I 
was  seeking  must  be,  of  course,  on  the  other  side  of  this 
deluge,  for  on  my  side  there  was  not  a  single  house. 

I  followed  the  bank  of  the  flood  to  the  beach,  some  two 
or  three  hundred  yards  below,  and  there  had  the  luck  to 
see  Will  Watcombe  on  the  opposite  side,  calking  an  old 
boat.  Though  I  could  not  make  him  hear  a  word,  from 
the  deafening  roar  of  the  torrent,  I  got  him  to  understand 
at  last  that  I  wanted  to  cross  over.  Upon  this  he  fetched 
another  man,  and  the  two  of  them  launched  a  boat;  and 


408  LOBNA  DOONE. 

paddling  well  out  to  sea,  fetched  round  the  mouth  of  the 
frantic  river.  The  other  man  proved  to  be  Stickles'  chief 
mate;  and  so  he  went  back  and  fetched  his  comrades, 
bringing  their  weapons,  but  leaving  their  horses  behind. 
As  it  happened,  there  were  but  four  of  them.  However, 
to  have  even  these  was  a  help;  and  I  started  again  at  full 
speed  for  my  home,  for  the  men  must  follow  afoot,  and 
cross  our  river  high  up  on  the  moor-land. 

This  took  them  a  long  way  round,  and  the  track  was 
rather  bad  to  find,  and  the  sky  already  darkening;  so  that 
I  arrived  at  Plovers  Barrows  more  than  two  hours  before 
them.  But  they  had  done  a  sagacious  thing,  which  was 
well  worth  the  delay;  for  by  hoisting  their  flag  upon  the 
hill,  they  fetched  the  two  watchmen  from  the  Foreland, 
and  added  them  to  their  number. 

It  was  lucky  that  I  came  home  so  soon;  for  I  found  the 
house  in  a  great  commotion,  and  all  the  women  trembling. 
When  I  asked  what  the  matter  was,  Lorna,  who  seemed 
the  most  self-possessed,  answered  that  it  was  all  her  fault, 
for  she  alone  had  frightened  them.  And  this  in  the  fol- 
lowing manner:  She  had  stolen  out  to  the  garden  toward 
dusk,  to  watch  some  favorite  hyacinths  just  pushing  up, 
like  a  baby's  teeth,  and  just  attracting  the  fatal  notice  of  a 
great  house-snail  at  night-time.  Lorua  at  last  had  dis- 
covered the  glutton,  and  was  bearing  him  off  in  triumph 
to  the  tribunal  of  the  ducks,  when  she  descried  two  glitter- 
ing eyes  glaring  at  her  steadfastly  from  the  elder-bush 
beyond  tlie  stream.  The  elder  was  smoothing  its  wrinkled 
leaves,  being  at  least  two  months  behind  time;  and  among 
them  this  calm  cruel  face  appeared,  and  she  knew  it  was 
the  face  of  Carver  Doone. 

The  maiden,  although  so  used  to  terror  (as  she  told  me 
once  before),  lost  all  presence  of  mind  hereat,  and  could 
neither  shriek  nor  fly,  but  only  gaze,  as  if  bewitched.  Then 
Carver  Doone,  with  his  deadly  smile,  gloating  upon  her 
horror,  lifted  his  long  gun,  and  pointed  full  at  Lorna's 
heart.  In  vain  she  strove  to  turn  away;  fright  had  stricken 
her  stiff  as  stone.  With  the  inborn  love  of  life,  she  tried 
to  cover  the  vital  part  wherein  the  winged  death  must  lodge 
— for  she  knew  Carver's  certain  aim — but  her  hands  hung 
numbed  and  heavy:  in  nothing  but  her  eyes  was  life. 

With  no  sign  of  pity  in  his  face,  no  quiver  of  relenting. 


EVERT  MAN  MUST  DEFEND  HIMSELF.  409 

but  a  well-pleased  grin  at  all  the  charming  palsy  of  his 
victim.  Carver  Doone  lowered,  inch  by  inch,  the  muzzle  of 
his  gun.  When  it  pointed  to  the  ground,  between  her 
delicate  arched  insteps,  he  pulled  the  trigger,  and  the 
bullet  flung  the  mold  all  over  her.  It  was  a  refinement 
of  bullying,  for  which  I  swore  to  God  that  night  upon  my 
kneeSy  in  secret,  that  I  would  smite  down  Carver  Doone, 
or  else  he  should  smite  me  down.  Base  beast!  what  largest 
humanity,  or  what  dreams  of  divinity,  could  make  a  man 
put  up  with  this? 

My  darling  (the  lovliest  and  most  harmless  in  the  world 
of  maidens)  fell  away  on  a  bank  of  grass,  and  wept  at  her 
own  cowardice;  and  trembled,  and  wondered  where  I  was, 
and  what  I  would  think  of  tiiis.  Good  God!  What  could 
I  think  of  it?  She  overrated  my  slow  nature,  to  admit  the 
question. 

While  she  leaned  there,  quite  unable  yet  to  save  herself. 
Carver  came  to  the  brink  of  the  flood,  which  alone  was 
between  them;  and  then  he  stroked  his  jet-black  beard,  and 
waited  for  Lorna  to  begin.  Very  likely  he  thought  that 
she  would  thank  him  for  his  kindness  to  her.  But  she 
was  now  recovering  the  power  of  her  nimble  limbs;  and 
ready  to  be  off  like  hope,  and  wonder  at  her  own  cowardice. 

"  I  have  spared  you  this  time,"  he  said,  in  his  deep  calm 
voice,  **only  because  it  suits  my  plans,  and  I  never  yield 
to  temper.  But  unless  you  come  back  to-morrow,  pure, 
and  with  all  you  took  away,  and  teach  me  to  destroy  that 
fool,  who  has  destroyed  himself  for  you,  your  death  is  here, 
your  death  is  here,  where  it  has  long  been  waiting." 

Although  his  gun  was  empty,  he  struck  the  breach  of  it 
with  his  finger;  and  then  he  turned  away,  not  deigning 
even  once  to  look  back  again;  and  Lorna  saw  his  giant 
figure  striding  across  the  meadow-land  as  if  the  Ridds  were 
nobodies,  and  he  the  proper  owner.  Both  mother  and  I 
were  greatly  hurt  at  hearing  of  this  insolence:  for  we  had 
owned  that  meadow  from  the  time  of  the  great  Alfred;  and 
even  when  that  good  king  lay  in  the  Isle  of  Athelney,  hb 
had  a  Ridd  along  with  him. 

Now  I  spoke  to  Lorna  gently,  seeing  how  much  she  had 
been  tried;  and  I  praised  her  for  her  courage  in  not  having 
run  away,  when  she  was  so  unable;  and  my  darling  was 
pleased  with  this,  and  smiled  upon  me  for  saying  it;  though 


410  LOBNA  DOONE. 

she  knew  right  well  that  in  this  matter  my  judgment  was 
not  impartial.  But  you  may  take  this  as  a  general  rule, 
that  a  woman  likes  praise  from  the  man  whom  she  loves, 
and  cannot  stop  always  to  balance  it. 

Now  expecting  a  sharp  attack  that  night — which  Jeremy 
Stickles  the  more  expected  after  the  words  of  Carver,  which 
seemed  to  be  meant  to  mislead  us — we  prepared  a  great 
quantity  of  knuckles  of  pork,  and  a  ham  in  full  cut,  and  a 
fillet  of  hung  mutton.  For  we  would  almost  surrender 
rather  than  keep  our  garrison  hungry.  And  all  our  men 
were  exceedingly  brave,  and  counted  their  rounds  of  the 
house  in  half-pints. 

Before  the  maidens  went  to  bed,  Lorna  made  a  remark 
which  seemed  to  me  a  very  clever  one,  and  then  I  won- 
dered how  on  earth  it  had  never  occurred  to  me  before. 
But  first  she  had  done  a  thing  which  I  could  not  in  the 
least  approve  of:  for  she  had  gone  up  to  my  mother,  and 
thrown  herself  into  her  arms,  and  begged  to  be  allowed  to 
return  to  Glen  Doone. 

"  My  child,  are  you  unhappy  here?"  mother  asked  her 
very  gently,  for  she  had  begun  to  regard  her  now  as  a 
daughter  of  her  own. 

"  Oh,  no!  Too  happy — by  far  too  happy,  Mrs.  Ridd. 
I  never  knew  rest  or  peace  before,  or  met  with  real  kindness. 
But  I  can  not  be  so  ungrateful,  I  cannot  be  so  wicked,  as 
to  bring  you  all  into  deadly  peril  for  my  sake  alone.  Let 
me  go;  you  must  not  pay  this  great  price  for  my 
happiness." 

''  Dear  child,  we  are  paying  no  price  at  all,"  replied  my 
mother,  embracing  her;  **  we  are  not  threatened  for  your 
sake  only.  Ask  John;  he  will  tell  you.  He  knows  every 
bit  about  politics,  and  this  is  a  political  matter." 

Dear  mother  was  rather  proud  in  her  heart,  as  well  as 
terribly  frightened,  at  the  importance  now  accruing  to 
Plovers  Barrows  farm;  and  she  often  declared  that  it  would 
be  as  famous  in  history  as  the  Rye  House,  or  the  meal-tub, 
or  even  the  great  black  box,  in  which  she  was  a  firm 
believer;  and  even  my  knowledge  of  politics  could  not 
move  her  upon  that  matter.  '*  Such  things  had  happened 
before,"  she  would  say,  shaking  her  head  with  its  wisdom, 
"and  why  might  they  not  happen  again?  Women  would 
be  women  and  men  would  be  men,  to  the  end  of  the  chap- 


EVERT  MAN  MV8T  DEFEND  HIMSELF.  411 

ter;  and  if  she  had  been  in  Lucy  Walter's  place  she  weuld 
keep  it  quiet,  as  she  had  done;"  and  then  she  would  look 
round,  for  fear  lest  either  of  her  daughters  had  heard  her; 
"  but  now  can  you  give  me  any  reason  why  it  may  not 
have  been  so?  You  are  so  fearfully  positive,  John;  just 
as  men  always  are."  *^  No,"  I  used  to  say;  *'  I  can  give 
you  no  reason  why  it  may  not  have  been  so,  mother.  But 
the  question  is,  if  it  was  so,  or  not;  rather  than  what  it 
might  have  been.  And  I  think  it  is  pretty  good  proof 
against  it,  that  what  nine  men  out  of  every  ten  in  Eng- 
land would  only  too  gladly  believe,  if  true  is,  nevertheless 
kept  dark  from  them."  "There  you  are  again,  John," 
mother  would  reply,  ''all  about  men,  and  not  a  single 
word  about  women.  If  you  had  any  argument  at  all,  you 
would  own  that  marriage  is  a  question  upon  which  women 
are  the  best  judges."  *'  Oh!"  1  would  groan  in  my  spirit, 
and  go,  leaving  my  dearest  mother  quite  sure  that  now  at 
last  she  must  have  convinced  me.  But  if  mother  had 
known  that  Jeremy  Stickles  was  working  against  the 
black  box  and  its  issue,  I  doubt  whether  he  would  have 
fared  so  well,  even  though  he  were  a  visitor.  However, 
she  knew  that  something  was  doing,  and  something  of  im- 
portance; and  she  trusted  in  God  for  the  rest  of  it.  Only 
she  used  to  tell  me,  very  seriously,  of  an  evening,  "  The 
very  least  they  can  give  you,  dear  John,  is  a  coat  of  arms 
Be  sure  you  take  nothing  less,  dear;  and  the  farm  can 
well  support  it." 

But  lo!  I  have  left  Lorna  ever  so  long,  anxious  to  con- 
sult me  upon  political  matters.  She  came  to  me,  and  her 
eyes  alone  asked  a  hundred  questions,  which  I  rather  had 
answered  upon  her  lips,  than  troubled  her  pretty  ears  with 
them.  Therefore  I  told  her  nothing  at  all,  save  that  the 
attack  (it  any  should  be)  would  not  be  made  on  her 
account;  and  that  if  she  should  hear  by  any  chance  a  trifle 
of  a  noise  in  the  night,  she  was  to  wrap  the  clothes  around 
her,  and  shut  her  beautiful  eyes  again.  On  no  account, 
whatever  she  did,  was  she  to  go  to  the  window.  She 
liked  my  expression  about  her  e3^es,  and  promised  to  do 
the  very  best  she  could;  and  then  she  crept  so  very  close, 
that  I  needs  must  have  her  closer;  and,  with  her  head  on 
my  breast,  she  asked : 

''Can't  you  keep  out  of  this  fight,  John?" 


412  LOHNA  DOONE, 

''  My  own  one,"  I  answered,  gazing  through  the  long 
black  lashes  at  the  depths  of  radiant  love;  "■  I  believe 
there  will  be  nothing;  but  what  there  is  I  must  see  out." 

**  Shall  I  tell  you  what  1  think,  John?  It  is  only  a 
fancy  of  mine,  and  perhaps  it  is  not  worth  telling." 

"  Let  us  have  it,  dear,  by  all  means.  You  know  so 
much  about  their  ways." 

"What  I  believe  is  this,  John.  You  know  how  high  the 
rivers  are — higher  than  ever  they  were  before,  and  twice  as 
high,  you  have  told  me.  I  believe  that  Glen  Doone  is 
flooded,  and  all  the  houses  under  water." 

''  You  little  witch,"  I  answered;  '*  what  a  fool  I  must  be 
not  to  think  of  it!  Of  course  it  is:  it  must  be.  The  tor- 
rent from  all  the  Bagworthy  forest,  and  all  the  valleys 
above  it,  and  the  grea*t  drifts  in  the  glen  itself,  never  could 
have  outlet  down  my  famous  water-slide.  The  valley  must 
be  under  water  twenty  feet  at  least.  Well,  if  ever  there 
was  a  fool,  I  am  he,  for  not  having  thought  of  it." 

*'  I  remember  once  before,"  said  Lorna,  reckoning  on 
her  fingers,  "  when  there  was  very  heavy  rain  all  through 
the  autumn  and  winter,  five  or  it  may  be  six  years  ago,  the 
river  came  down  with  such  a  rush  that  the  water  was  two  feet 
deep  in  our  rooms,  and  we  all  had  to  camp  by  the  cliff-edge. 
But  you  think  that  the  floods  are  higher  now,  I  believe  I 
heard  you  say,  John." 

"  I  don't  think  about  it,  my  treasure,"  I  answered:  "  you 
may  trust  me  for  understanding  floods,  after  our  work  at 
Tiverton.  And  I  know  that  the  deluge  in  all  our  valleys 
is  such  as  no  living  man  can  remember,  neither  will  ever 
behold  again.  Consider  three  months  of  snow,  and 
a  fortnight  of  rain  on  the  top  of  it,  and. all  to  be  drained 
in  a  few  days  away!  And  great  barricades  of  ice  still  in 
the  rivers  blocking  them  up  and  ponding  them.  You  may 
take  my  word  for  it,  Mistress  Lorna,  that  your  pretty 
bower  is  six  feet  deep." 

"  Well,  my  bower  has  served  its  time,"  said  Lorna  blush- 
ing as  she  remembered  all  that  had  happened  there;  "  and 
my  bower  now  is  here,  John.  But  I  am  so  sorry  to  think 
of  all  the  poor  women  flooded  out  of  their  houses  and  shel- 
tering in  the  snow-drifts.  However,  there  is  one  good  of 
it:  they  cannot  send  many  men  against  us,  with  all  this 
trouble  upon  thent** 


EVEUT  MAN  MUST  DEFEND  HIMSELF.  413 

"You  are  right/' I  replied;  "  bow  clever  you  are!  and 
that  is  why  there  were  only  three  to  cut  off  Master  Stickles. 
And  now  we  shall  beat  them,  I  make  no  doubt,  even  if  they 
come  at  all.  And  I  defy  them  to  fire  the  house:  the  thatch 
is  too  wet  for  burning. '' 

We  sent  all  the  women  to  bed  quite  early,  except  Gwenny 
Carfax  and  our  old  Betty.  These  two  we  allowed  to  stay 
up,  because  they  might  be  useful  to  us,  if  they  could  keep 
from  quarreling.  For  my  part  I  had  little  fear,  after  what 
Lorna  had  told  me,  as  to  the  result  of  the  combat.  It  was 
not  likely  that  the  Doones  could  bring  more  than  eight  or 
ten  men  against  us  while  their  homes  were  in  such  danger; 
and  to  meet  these  we  had  eight  good  men,  including 
Jeremy  and  myself,  all  well  armed  and  resolute,  besides 
our  three  farm-servants,  and  the  parish-clerk,  and  the  shoe- 
maker. These  five  could  not  be  trusted  much  for  any  val- 
iant conduct,  although  ,they  spoke  very  confidently  over 
their  cans  of  cider.  Neither  were  their  weapons  fitted 
for  much  execution,  unless  it  were  at  close  quarters,  which 
they  would  be  likely  to  avoid.  Bill  Dadds  had  a  sickle, 
Jem  Slocombe  a  flail,  the  cobbler  had  borrowed  the  con- 
stable's staff  (for  the  constable  would  not  attend,  because 
there  was  no  warrant),  and  the  parish-clerk  had  brought 
his  pitch-pipe,  which  was  enough  to  break  any  man's  head. 
But  John  Fry,  of  course,  had  his  blunderbuss,  loaded  with 
tin-tacks  and  marbles,  and  more  likely  to  kill  the  man  who 
discharged  it  than  any  other  person;  but  we  knew  that 
John  had  it  only  for  show,  and  to  describe  its  qualities. 

Now  it  was  my  great  desire,  and  my  chiefest  hope,  to 
come  across  Carver  Doone  that  night  and  settle  the  score 
between  us,  not  by  any  shot  in  the  dark,  but  by  a  conflict 
man  to  man.  As  yet,  smce  I  came  to  full-grown  power,  I 
had  never  met  any  one' whom  1  could  not  play  tetotum 
with:  but  now  at  last  I  had  found  a  man  whose  strength 
was  not  to  be  laughed  at.  I  could  guess  it  in  his  face,  1 
could  tell  it  in  his  arms,  I  could  see  it  in  his  stride  and  gait, 
which  more  than  all  the  rest  betray  the  substance  of  a  man. 
And  being  so  well  used  to  wrestling,  and  to  judge  antago- 
nists, I  felt  that  here  (if  anywhere)  I  had  found  my  match. 

Therefore  I  was  not  content  to  abide  within  the  house, 
or  go  the  rounds  with  the  troopers ;  but  betook  myself  to 
the  rick-yard,  knowing  that  the  Doones  were  likely  to  begin 


414  LORNA  BOONE. 

their  onset  there.  For  they  had  a  pleasant  custom,  when 
they  visited  farm-houses,  of  lighting  themselves  toward 
picking  up  anything  they  wanted,  or  stabbing  the  inhabit- 
ants, by  first  creating  a  blaze  in  the  rick-yard.  And  though 
our  ricks  were  all  now  of  mere  straw  (except  indeed  two 
of  prime  clover  hay),  and  although  on  the  top  they  were  so 
wet  that  no  fire-brands  might  hurt  them,  I  was  both  un- 
willing to  have  them  burned,  and  fearful  that  they  might 
kindle,  if  well  roused  up  with  fire  upon  the  windward  side. 

By-the-by,  these  Doones  had  got  the  worst  of  this  pleas- 
ant trick  one  time.  For  happening  to  fire  the  ricks  of  a 
lonely  farm  called  Yeanworthy,  not  far  above  Glenthorne, 
they  approached  the  house  to  get  people's  goods,  and  to 
enjoy  their  terror.  The  master  of  the  farm  was  lately 
dead,  and  had  left  inside  the  clock-case,  loaded,  the  great 
long  gun,  wherewith  he  had  used  to  sport  at  the  ducks  and 
the  geese  on  the  shore.  Now  Widow  Fisher  took  out  this 
gun,  and  not  caring  much  what  became  of  her  (for  she  had 
loved  her  husband  dearly),  she  laid  it  upon  the  window- 
sill,  which  looked  upon  the  rick-yard  ;  and  she  backed  up 
the  butt  with  a  chest  of  oak  drawers,  and  she  opened  the 
window  a  little  back,  and  let  the  muzzle  out  on  the  slope. 
Presently  five  or  six  fine  young  Doones  came  dancing  a 
reel  (as  their  manner  was)  betwixt  her  and  the  flaming 
rick.  Upon  which  she  pulled  the  trigger  with  all  the  force 
of  her  thumb,  and  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  duck-shot  went 
out  with  a  blaze  on  the  dancers.  You  may  suppose  what 
their  dancing  was,  and  their  reeling  how  changed  to  stag- 
gering, and  their  music  none  of  the  sweetest.  One  of  them 
fell  into  the  rick,  and  was  burned,  and  buried  in  a  diteh 
next  day;  but  the  others  were  set  upon  their  horses,  and 
carried  home  on  a  path  of  blood.  And  strange  to  say,  they 
never  avenged  this  very  dreadful  injury;  but  having  heard 
that  a  woman  had  fired  this  desperate  shot  among  them, 
they  said  that  she  ought  to  be  a  Doone,  and  inquired  how 
old  she  was. 

Now  I  had  not  been  so  very  long  waiting  in  our  mow- 
yard,  with  my  best  gun  ready,  and  a  big  club  by  me,  be- 
fore a  heaviness  of  sleep  began  to  creep  upon  me.  The 
flow  of  water  was  in  my'ears,  and  in  my  eyes  a  hazy  spread- 
ing, and  upon  my  brain  a  closure,  as  a  cobbler  sews  a  vamp 
up.     So  I  leaned  back  in  the  clover-rick,  and  the  dust  of 


EVERY  MA2i  M  UtiT  BEFBMB  HIMSELF,  415 

the  seed  and  the  smell  came  round  me  without  any  trouble; 
and  I  dozed  about  Lorna  just  once  or  twice,  and  what  she 
had  said  about  new- mown  hay;  and  then  back  went  my 
head,  and  my  chin  went  up;  and  if  ever  a  man  was  blessed 
with  slumber,  down  it  came  upon  me,  and  away  went  I 
into  it. 

Now  this  was  very  vile  of  me,  and  against  all  good  res- 
olutions, even  such  as  I  would  have  sworn  to  an  hour  ago 
or  less.  But  if  you  had  been  in  the  water  as  I  had,  ay,  and 
had  long  fight  with  it,  after  a  good  day's  work,  and  then 
great  anxiety  afterward,  and  brain-work  (which  is  not  fair 
for  me),  and  upon  that  a  stout  supper,  mayhap  you  would 
not  be  so  hard  on  my  sleep,  though  you  felt  it  your  duty 
to  wake  me. 


416  LOBNA  DOONB. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

MAIDEN   SENTINELS  ARE   BEST, 

It  was  not  lively  that  the  outlaws  would  attack  our  prem-t 
ises  until  sometime  after  the  moon  was  risen;  because  it 
would  be  too  dangerous  to  cross  the  flooded  valleys  in  the 
darkness  of  the  night.  And  but  for  this  consideration,  I 
must  have  striven  harder  against  the  stealthy  approach  of 
slumber.  But  even  so,  it  was  very  foolish  to  abandon 
watch,  especially  in  such  as  I,  who  sleep  like  any  dormouse. 
Moreover,  J  had  chosen  the  very  worst  place  in  the  world 
for  such  employment,  with  a  goodly  chance  of  awaking  in 
a  bed  of  solid  fire. 

And  so  it  might  have  been,  nay,  it  must  have  been,  but 
for  Lorna's  vigilance.  Her  light  hand  upon  my  arm 
awoke  me,  not  too  readily;  and  leaping  up,  I  seized  my 
club,  and  prepared  to  knock  down  somebody. 

"Who's  that?"  I  cried;  "stand  back,  I  say,  and  let  me 
have  fair  chance  at  you." 

"Are  you  going  to  knock  me  down,  dear  John?"  re- 
plied the  voice  I  loved  so  well.  "I  am  sure  I  should 
never  get  up  again,  after  one  blow  from  you,  John." 

"My  darling,  is  it  you?"  I  cried;  "and  breaking  all 
your  orders?  Come  back  into  the  house  at  once;  and 
nothing  on  your  head,  dear." 

"  How  could  I  sleep,  while  at  any  moment  you  might  be 
killed  beneath  my  window?  And  now  is  the  time  of  real 
danger;  for  men  can  see  to  travel." 

I  saw  at  once  the  truth  of  this.  The  moon  was  high, 
and  clearly  lighting  all  the  watered  valleys.  To  sleep  any 
longer  might  be  death,  not  only  to  myself,  but  all. 

"  The  man  on  guard  at  the  back  of  the  house  is  fast 
asleep,"  she  continued;  "  Gwenny,  who  let  me  out,  and 
came  with  me,  has  heard  him  snoring  for  two  hours.  I 
think  the  women  ought  to  be  the  watch,  because  they  have 


MAIDEN  SENTINELS  ARE  BEST.  41? 

had  no  traveling.     Where  do  yon  suppose  little  Gwenny 


,9^' 


isr 

"Surely  not  gone  to  Glen  Doone?"  I  was  not  sure,  how- 
ever; for  I  could  believe  almost  anything  of  the  Cornish 
maiden's  hardihood. 

''  No,"  replied  Lorna,  '"'although  she  wanted  even  to  do 
that.  But,  of  course,  I  would  not  hear  of  it,  on  account 
of  the  swollen  waters.  But  she  is  perched  in  yonder  tree, 
which  commands  the  Barrow  valley.  She  says  that  they  are 
almost  sure  to  cross  the  streamlet  there;  and  now  it  is  so 
wide  and  large  that  she  can  trace  it  in  the  moonlight  half 
a  mile  beyond  her.  If  they  cross  she  is  sure  to  see  them, 
and  in  good  time  to  let  us  know.'' 

'*  What  a  shame,"  I  cried,  "  that  the  men  should  sleep, 
and  the  maidens  be  the  soldiers!  I  will  sit  in  that  tree 
myself,  and  send  little  Gwenny  back  to  you.  Go  to  bed, 
my  best  and  dearest;  I  will  take  good  care  not  to  sleep 
again." 

"  Please  not  to  send  me  away,  dear  John,"  she  answered 
very  mournfully.  "  You  and  I  have  been  together 
through  perils  worse  than  this.  I  shall  be  only  more  timid, 
and  more  miserable,  indoors." 

''I  cannot  let  you  stay  here,"  I  said;  "it  is  altogether 
impossible.  Do  you  suppose  that  I  can  fight,  with  you 
among  the  bullets,  Lorna?  If  this  is  the  way  you  mean  to 
take  it,  we  had  better  go  both  to  the  apple-room,  and  lock 
ourselves  in,  and  hide  under  the  tiles,  and  let  them  burn 
all  the  rest  of  the  premises." 

At  this  idea  Lorna  laughed,  as  I  could  see  by  the  moon- 
light; and  then  she  said: 

"  You  are  right,  John.  I  should  only  do  more  harm 
than  good  ;  and  of  all  things  I  hate  fighting  most, 
and  disobedience  next  to  it.  Therefore,  I  will  go  indoors, 
although  I  cannot  go  to  bed.  But  promise  me  one  thing, 
dearest  John.  You  will  keep  yourself  out  of  the  way — 
now  won't  you,  as  much  as  you  can,  for  my  sake?" 

"  Of  that  you  may  be  quite  certain,  Lorna.  I  will  shoot 
them  all  through  the  hay-ricks." 

'-  That  is  right,  dear,"  she  answered,  never  doubting 
but  what  I  could  do  it;  "and  then  they  cannot  see  you, 
you  know.  But  don't  think  of  climbing  that  tree,  John; 
it  is  a  great  deal  too  dangerous.  It  is  all  very  well  for 
Gwenny;  she  has  no  bones  to  break." 


41B  LORNA  DOONZ 

''None  worth  breaking,  you  mean,  I  suppose.  Veiy 
well;  I  will  not  climb  the  tree,  for  I  should  defeat  my  own 
purpose,  I  fear;  being  such  a  conspicuous  object.  Now 
go  indoors,  darling,  without  more  words.  The  more  you 
linger,  the  more  I  shall  keep  you." 

She  laughed  her  own  bright  laugh  at  this,  and  only  said, 
*'  God  keep  you,  love,"  and  tlien  she  tripped  away  across 
the  yard,  with  the  step  I  loved  to  watch  so.  And  there- 
upon I  shouldered  arms,  and  resolved  to  tramp  till  morn- 
ing. For  I  was  vexed  at  my  own  neglect,  and  that  Lorna 
should  have  to  right  it. 

But  before  I  had  been  long  on  duty,  making  the  round 
of  the  ricks  and  stables,  and  hailing  Gwenny  now  and  then 
from  the  bottom  of  her  tree,  a  short  wide  figure  stole 
toward  me,  in  and  out  the  shadows,  and  1  saw  that  it  was 
no  other  than  the  little  maid  herself,  and  that  she  bore 
some  tidings. 

'*  Ten  on  ^em  crossed  the  watter  down  yonder,"  said 
Gwenny,  putting  her  hand  to  her  mouth,  and  seeming  to 
regard  it  as  good  news  rather  than  otherwise:  "be  arl 
craping  up  by  hedgerow  now.  I  could  shutt  dree  on  'em 
from  the  bar  of  the  gate,  if  so  be  I  had  your  goon,  young 
man." 

**  There  is  no  time  to  lose,  Gwenny.  Run  to  the  house 
and  fetch  Master  Stickles,  and  all  the  men,  while  I  stay 
here  and  watch  the  rick-yard." 

Perhaps  I  was  wrong  in  heeding  the  ricks  at  such  a  time 
as  that,  especially  as  only  the  clover  was  of  much  impor- 
tance. But  it  seemed  to  me  like  a  sort  of  triumph  that 
they  should  even  be  able  to  boast  of  having  fired  our  mow- 
yard.  Therefore,  I  stood  in  a  nick  of  the  clover,  whence 
we  had  cut  some  trusses,  with  my  club  in  hand,  and  gun 
close  by. 

The  robbers  rode  into  our  yard  as  coolly  as  if  they  had 
been  invited,  having  lifted  the  gate  from  the  hinges  first, 
on  account  of  its  being  fastened.  Then  they  actually 
opened  our  stable  doors,  and  turned  our  honest  torses  out, 
and  put  their  own  rogues  in  the  place  of  them.  At  this 
my  breath  was  quite  taken  away;  for  we  think  so  much  of 
our  horses.  By  this  time  I  could  see  our  troopers  waiting 
in  the  shadow  of  the  house  round  the  corner  from  where  the 
Doones  were,  and  expecting  the  order  to  fire;  but  Jeremj 


MAIDEN  SENTINELS  ARE  BEST.  419 

Stickles  very  wisely   kept  them   in    readiness    until    the 
enemy  should  advance  upon  them. 

"  Two  of  you  lazy  fellows  go,"  it  was  the  deep  voice  of 
Carver  Doone,  **  and  make  us  a  light  to  cut  their  throats 
by.  Only  one  thing,  once  again.  If  any  man  touches 
Lorna,  I  will  stab  him  where  he  stands.  She  belongs  to  • 
me.  There  are  two  other  young  damsels  here,  whom  you 
may  take  away  if  you  please.  And  the  mother,  I  hear,  is 
still  comely.  Now  for  our  rights.  We  have  borne  too 
long  the  insolence  of  these  yokels.  Kill  every  man  and 
every  child,  and  burn  the  cursed  place  down.'* 

As  he  spoke  thus  blasphemously,  I  set  my  gun  against 
his  breast;  and  by  the  light  buckled  from  his  belt,  I  saw 
the  little ''sight"  of  brass  gleaming  alike  on  either  side, 
and  the  sleek  round  barrel  glimmering.  The  aim  was  sure 
as  death  itself.  If  I  only  drew  the  trigger  (which  went 
very  lightly).  Carver  Doone  would  breathe  no  more.  And 
yet — will  you  believe  me? — I  could  not  pull  the  trigger. 
Would  to  God  that  I  had  done  so! 

For  I  never  had  taken  human  life,  neither  done  bodily 
harm  to  man,  beyond  the  little  bruises,  and  the  trifling 
aches  and  pains,  which  follow  a  good  and  honest  bout  in 
the  wrestling  ring.  Therefore,  I  dropped  my  carbine,  and 
grasped  again  my  club,  which  seemed  a  more  straightfor- 
ward implement. 

Presently  two  young  men  came  toward  me,  bearing 
brands  of  resined  hemp,  kindled  from  Carver's  lamp. 
The  foremost  of  them  set  his  torch  to  the  rick  within  a 
vard  of  me,  the  smoke  concealing  me  from  him.  I  struck 
him  with  a  back-handed  blow  on  the  elbow,  as  he  bent  it, 
and  I  heard  the  bone  of  his  arm  break  as  clearly  as  ever  I 
heard  a  twig  snap.  With  a  roar  of  pain  he  fell  on  the 
ground,  and  his  torch  dropped  there,  and  singed  him. 
The  other  man  stood  amazed  at  this,  not  having  yet  gained 
sight  of  me,  till  I  caught  his  fire-brand  from  his  hand,  and 
struck  it  into  his  countenance.  With  that  he  leaped  at 
me;  but  I  caught  him  in  a  manner  learned  from  early 
wrestling,  and  snapped  his  collar-bone,  as  I  laid  him  upon 
the  top  of  his  comrade. 

This  little  success  so  encouraged  me  that  I  was  half 
inclined  to  advance,  and  challenge  Carver  Doone  to  meet 
me;  but  I  bore  in  mind  that  he  Vould  be  apt  to  shoot  me 


i20  LORNA  BOONE, 

without  ceremony;  and  what  is  the  utmost  of  human 
strength  against  the  power  of  powder?  Moreover,  I 
remembered  my  promise  to  sweet  Lorna;  and  who  would 
be  left  to  defend  her,  if  the  rogues  got  rid  of  me? 

While  1  was  hesitating  thus  (for  I  always  continue  to 
hesitate,  except  in  actual  conflict)  a  blaze  of  fire  lit  up  the 
house,  and  brown  smoke  hung  around  it.  Six  of  our  men 
had  let  go  at  the  Doones,  by  Jeremy  Stickles'  order,  as  the 
\  illains  came  swaggering  down  in  the  moonlight  ready  for 
lape  or  murder.  Two  of  them  fell,  and  the  rest  hung 
back,  to  think  at  their  leisure  what  this  was.  They  were 
not  used  to  this  sort  of  thing;  it  was  neither  just  nor 
courteous. 

Being  unable  any  longer  to  contain  myself,  as  I  thought 
of  Lorna's  excitement  at  all  this  noise  of  firing,  I  came 
across  the  yard,  expecting  whether  they  would  shoot  at  me. 
However,  no  one  shot  at  me;  and  I  went  up  to  Carver 
Doone,  whom  I  knew  by  his  size  in  the  moonlight,  and  I 
took  him  by  the  beard,  and  said,  *'  Do  you  call  yourself  a 


man 


V' 


For  a  moment  he  was  so  astonished  that  he  could  not 
answer.  None  had  ever  dared,  I  suppose,  to  look  at  him 
in  that  way;  and  he  saw  that  he  had  met  his  equal,  or  per- 
haps his  master.  And  then  he  tried  a  pistol  at  me;  but  I 
was  too  quick  for  him. 

*'Now,  Carver  Doone,  take  warning,"  I  said  to  him, 
very  soberly;  **you  have  shown  yourself  a  fool  by  your  con- 
tempt of  me.  I  may  not  be  your  match  in  craft,  but  I  am 
in  manhood.  You  are  a  despicable  villain.  Lie  low  in 
your  native  muck." 

And  with  that  word  I  laid  him  flat  upon  his  back  in  our 
straw-yard  by  the  trick  of  the  inner  heel,  which  he  could 
not  have  resisted  (though  his  strength  had  been  twice  as 
great  as  mine)  unless  he  were  a  wrestler.  Seeing  him 
down,  the  others  ran,  though  one  of  them  made  a  shot 
at  me,  and  some  of  them  got  their  horses  before  our  men 
came  up,  and  some  went  away  without  them.  And  among 
these  last  was  Captain  Carver,  who  arose  while  I  was  feel- 
ing myself  (for  I  had  a  little  wound),  and  strode  away  with 
a  train  of  curses  enough  to  poison  tlie  light  of  the  moon. 

We  gained  six  very  ^ood  horses  by  this  attempted  rapine, 
as  well  as  two  young  prisoners,  whom  I  had  smitten  by  the 


MAIDEN  SENTINELS  ARE  BEST,  421 

clover-rick.  And  two  dead  Doones  were  left  behind,  whom 
(as  we  buried  them  in  the  church-yard,  without  any  serv- 
ice over  them)  I,  for  my  part,  was  most  thankful  that  I 
had  not  killed.  For  to  have  the  life  of  a  fellow  man  laid 
upon  one's  conscience — deserved  lie  his  death,  or  deserved 
it  not — is,  to  my  sense  of  right  and  wrong,  the  heaviest  of 
all  burdens;  and  the  one  that  wears  most  deeply  inward, 
with  the  dwelling  of  the  mind  on  this  view  and  on  that 
of  it. 

I  was  inclined  to  pursue  the  enemy  and  try  to  capture 
more  of  them;  but  Jeremy  Stickles  would  not  allow  it,  for 
he  said  that  all  the  advantage  would  be  upon  their  side,  if 
we  went  hurrying  after  them,  with  only  the  moon  to  guide 
us.  And  who  could  tell  but  what  there  might  be  another 
band  of  them,  ready  to  fall  upon  the  house,  and  burn  it, 
and  seize  the  women,  if  we  left  them  unprotected?  When 
he  put  the  case  thus,  I  was  glad  enough  to  abide  by  his 
decision.  And  one  thing  Avas  quite  certain,  that  the 
Doones  had  never  before  received  so  rude  a  shock,  and  so 
violent  a  blow  to  their  supremacy,  since  first  they  had  built 
up  their  power,  and  become  the  lords  of  Exmoor.  I  knew 
that  Carver  Doone  would  gnash  those  mighty  teeth  of  his, 
and  curse  the  men  around  him.  for  the  blunder  (which 
Avas  in  truth  his  own)  of  over-confidence  and  carelessness. 
And  at  the  same  time,  all  the  rest  would  feel  that  such  a 
thing  had  never  happened  while  old  Sir  Ensor  was  alive, 
and  that  it  was  caused  by  nothing  short  of  gross  misman- 
agement. 

1  scarcely  know  who  made  the  greatest  fuss  about  my 
little  wound — mother,  or  Annie,  or  Lorna.  I  was  heartily 
ashamed  to  be  so  treated  like  a  milksop;  but,  most  unluck- 
ily, it  had  been  impossible  to  hide  it.  For  the  ball  had 
cut  along  my  temple  just  above  the  eyebrow;  and  being 
tired  so  near  at  hand,  the  powder,  too,  had  scarred  me. 
Therefore  it  seemed  a  great  deal  worse  than  it  really  was; 
and  the  sponging,  and  plastering,  and  the  sobbing,  and  the 
moaning,  made  me  quite  ashamed  to  look  Master  Stickles 
in  the  face. 

However,  at  last  I  persuaded  them  that  I  had  no  inten- 
tion of  giving  up  the  ghost  that  night;  and  then  they  all 
fell  to,  and  thanked  God  with  an  emphasis  quite  unknown 
in  church.     And  hereupon  Master  Stickles  said,  in  his  free 


423  LORNA  BOONE, 

and  easy  manner  (for  no  one  courted  his  observation)  that 
I  was  the  luckiest  of  all  mortals  in  having  a  mother,  and  a 
sister,  and  a  sweetheart,  to  make  much  of  me.  For  his 
part,  he  said,  he  was  just  as  well  off  in  not  having  any  to 
care  for  him.  For  now  he  might  go  and  get  shot,  or 
stabbed,  or  knocked  on  the  head,  at  his  pleasure,  without 
any  one  being  offended.  I  made  bold,  upon  this,  to  ask 
him  what  was  become  of  his  wife;  for  I  had  heard  him 
speak  of  having  one.  He  said  that  he  neither  knew  nor 
cared;  and  perhaps  I  should  be  like  him  some  day.  That 
Lorna  should  hear  such  sentiments,  was  very  grievous  to 
me.  But  she  looked  at  me  with  a  smile,  which  proved  her 
contempt  for  all  such  ideas;  and  lest  anything  still  more 
unfit  might  be  said,  I  dismissed  the  question. 

But  Master  Stickles  told  me  afterward,  when  there  was 
no  one  with  us,  to  have  no  faith  in  any  woman,  whatever 
she  might  seem  to  be.  For  he  assured  me  that  now  he 
possessed  very  large  experience,  for  so  small  a  matter,  being 
thorough]'^  acquainted  with  women  of  every  class,  from 
ladies  of  <;he  highest  blood  to  Bonarobas  and  peasants' 
wives;  and  that  they  all  might  be  divided  into  three  heads, 
and  no  more;  that  is  to  say,  as  follows:  First,  the  very  hot 
and  passionate,  who  were  only  contemptible;  second,  the 
cold  and  indifferent,  who  were  simply  odious;  and  third, 
the  mixture  of  the  other  two,  who  had  the  bad  qualities  of 
both.  As  for  reason,  none  of  them  had  it:  it  was  like  a 
sealed  book  to  them,  which  if  they  ever  tried  to  open,  they 
began  at  the  back  of  the  cover. 

Now  I  did  not  like  to  hear  such  things;  and  to  me  they 
appeared  to  be  insolent,  as  well  as  narrow-minded.  For  if 
you  came  to  that,  why  might  not  men,  as  well  as  women, 
be  divided  into  the  same  three  classes,  and  be  pronounced 
upon  by  women  as  beings  even  more  devoid  than  their 
gentle  judges  of  reason?  Moreover,  I  knew,  both  from  my 
own  sense,  and  from  the  greatest  of  all  great  poets,  that 
there  are,  and  always  have  been,  plenty  of  women,  good 
and  gentle,  warm-hearted,  loving  and  lovable;  very  keen, 
moreover,  at  seeing  the  right,  be  it  by  reason  or  otherwise. 
And  upon  the  whole  I  prefer  them  much  to  the  people  of 
my  own  sex,  as  goodness  of  heart  is  more  important  than 
to  show  good  reason  for  having  it.  And  so  I  said  to 
Jeremy: 


MAIDEN  SENTINELS  ARE  BEST,  423 

"  You  have  been  ill  treated,  perhaps,  Master  Stickles, 
by  some  woman  or  other?  " 

*' Ay,  that  have  I,^Mie  replied,  with  an  oath;  *' and  the 
last  on  earth  who  should  serve  me  so,  the  woman  who  was 
my  wife.  A  woman  whom  I  never  struck,  never  wronged 
in  any  way,  never  even  let  her  know  that  I  liked  another 
better.  And  yet  when  I  was  at  Berwick  last,  with  the 
regiment  on  guard  there  against  those  vile  moss-troopers, 
what  does  that  woman  do  but  fly  in  the  face  of  all  authority, 
and  of  my  especial  business,  by  running  away  herself  with 
the  biggest  of  all  moss-troopers?  Not  that  I  cared  a  groat 
about  her;  and  I  wish  the  fool  well  rid  of  her;  but  the  in- 
solence of  the  thing  was  such  that  everybody  laughed  at 
me;  and  back  I  went  to  London,  losing  a  far  better  and 
safer  job  than  this;  and  all  through  her.  Come,  let's  have 
another  onion.'' 

Master  Stickles'  view  of  the  matter  was  so  entirely 
unromantic,  that  I  scarcely  wondered  at  Mistress  Stickles 
for  having  run  away  from  him  to  an  adventurous  moss- 
trooper. For  nine  women  out  of  ten  must  have  some  kind 
of  romance  or  other,  to  make  their  lives  endurable;  and 
when  their  love  has  lost  this  attractive  element,  this  soft 
dew-fog  (if  such  it  be),  the  love  is  apt  to  languish,  unless 
its  bloom  be  well  replaced  by  the  budding  hopes  of  children. 
Now  Master  Stickles  neither  had,  nor  wished  to  have,  any 
children. 

Without  waiting  for  any  warrant,  only  saying  something 
about  ^^  captus  in  flagrante  delicto'^ — if  that  be  the  way  to 
spell  it — Stickles  sent  our  prisoners  off,  bound,  and  look- 
ing miserable,  to  the  jail  at  Taunton.  I  was  desirous  to 
let  them  go  free,  if  they  would  promise  amendment;  but 
although  I  had  taken  them,  and  surely,  therefore,  had 
every  right  to  let  them  go  again.  Master  Stickles  said,  "  Not 
so."  He  assured  me  that  it  was  a  matter  of  public  polity; 
and  of  course,  not  knowing  what  he  meant,  I  could  not 
contradict  him,  but  thought  that  surely  my  private  rights 
ought  to  be  respected.  For  if  I  throw  a  man  in  wrestiing, 
I  expect  to  get  his  stakes;  and  if  I  take  a  man  prisoner, 
why,  he  ought,  in  common  justice,  to  belong  to  me,  and  I 
liave  a  good  right  to  let  him  go,  if  I  think  proper  to  do  so. 
However,  Master  Stickles  said  that  I  was  quite  benighted, 
and  knew  nothing  of  the  constitution;  which  was  the  very 
thing  I  knew  beyond  any  man  in  our  parish! 


424  LORNA  DOONE. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  not  for  me  to  contradict  a  commis- 
sioner; and  therefore  I  let  my  prisoners  go,  and  wished 
them  a  happy  deliverance.  Stickles  replied,  with  a  merry 
grin,  that  if  they  ever  got  it,  it  would  be  a  jail  deliverance, 
and  the  bliss  of  dancing;  and  he  laid  his  hand  to  his 
throat  in  a  manner  which  seemed  to  me  most  uncouvteous. 
However,  his  foresight  proved  too  correct;  for  both  those 
poor  fellows  were  executed  soon  after  the  next  Assizes. 
Lorna  had  done  her  very  best  to  earn  another  chance  for 
them;  even  going  down  on  her  knees  to  that  common 
Jeremy,  and  pleading  with  great  tears  for  them.  How- 
ever, although  much  moved  by  her  he  vowed  that  he  durst 
do  nothing  else.  To  set  them  free  was  more  than  his  own 
life  was  worth;  for  all  the  country  knew  by  this  time  that 
two  captive  Doones  were  roped  to  the  cider-press  at  Plov- 
ers Barrows.  Annie  bound  the  broken  arm  of  the  one 
whom  I  had  knocked  down  with  the  club,  and  I  myself 
supported  it;  and  then  she  washed  and  rubbed  with  lard  the 
face  of  the  other  poor  fellow  which  the  torch  had  injured; 
and  I  fetched  back  his  collar-bone  to  the  best  of  my  ability. 
For  before  any  surgeon  could  arrive,  they  were  off  with  a 
well-armed  escort.  That  day  we  were  reinforced  so 
strongly  from  the  stations  along  the  coast,  even  as  far  as 
Minehead,  that  we  not  only  feared  no  further  attack,  but 
even  talked  of  assaulting  Glen  Doone  without  waiting  for 
the  train-bands.  However,  I  thought  that  it  would  be 
mean  to  take  advantage  of  the  enemy  in  the  thick  of  the 
floods  and  confusion;  and  several  of  the  others  thought  so 
too,  and  did  not  like  fighting  in  water.  Therefore  it  was 
resolved  to  wait  and  keep  a  watch  upon  the  valley,  and  let 
the  floods  go  down  again. 


A  MERRY  MEETING  A  SAD  ONE.  425 


CHAPTER  L, 

A  MERRY  MEETING  A  SAD  ONE. 

Now  THE  business  I  had  most  at  heart  (as  every  one 
knows  by  this  time)  was  to  marry  Lorna  as  soon  as  might 
be,  if  she  had  no  objection,  and  then  to  work  the  farm  so 
well  as  to  nourish  all  our  family.  And  herein  I  saw  no 
difficulty;  for  Annie  would  soon  be  off  our  hands,  and 
somebody  might  come  and  take  a  fancy  to  little  Lizzie 
(who  was  growing  up  very  nicely  now,  though  not  so  fine 
as  Annie);  moreover,  we  were  almost  sure  to  have  great 
store  of  hay  and  corn  after  so  much  snow,  if  there  be  any 
truth  in  the  old  saying: 

**  A  foot  deep  of  rain 
Will  kill  bay  and  grain: 
But  three  feet  of  snow 
Will  make  them  come  mo'." 

And  although  it  was  too  true  that  we  had  lost  a-many 
cattle,  yet  even  so  we  had  not  lost  money;  for  the  few  re- 
maining fetched  such  prices  as  were  never  known  before. 
And  though  we  grumbled  with  all  our  hearts,  and  really 
believed  at  one  time  that  starvation  was  upon  us,  I  doubt 
whether,  on  the  whole,  we  were  not  the  fatter,  and  the 
richer,  and  the  wiser,  for  that  winter.  And  I  might  have 
said  the  happier,  except  for  the  sorrow  v/hich  we  felt  at 
the  failures  among  our  neighbors.  The  Snowes  lost  every 
sheep  they  had,  and  nine  out  of  ten  horned  cattle;  and 
poor  Jasper  Kebby  would  have  been  forced  to  throw  up 
the  lease  of  his  farm,  and  perhaps  to  go  to  prison,  but  for 
the  help  we  gave  him. 

However,  my  dear  mother  would  have  it  that  Lorna  was 
too  young,  as  yet,  to  think  of  being  married;  and  indeed  I 
myself  was  compelled  to  admit  that  her  form  was  becoming 
more  perfect  and  lovely,  though  I  had  not  thought  it  pos- 


426  LORNA  BOONE, 

sible.  And  another  difficulty  was,  that  as  we  had  all  been 
Protestants  from  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  the  maiden 
must  be  converted  first,  and  taught  to  hate  all  Papists. 
Now  Lorna  had  not  the  smallest  idea  of  ever  being 
converted.  She  said  that  she  loved  me  truly,  but 
wanted  not  to  convert  me;  and  if  I  loved  her  equally,  why 
should  I  wish  to  convert  her?  With  this  I  was  tolerably 
content,  not  seeing  so  very  much  difference  between  a  creed 
and  a  credo,  and  believing  God  to  be  our  Father,  in  Latin 
as  well  as  English.  Moreover,  my  darling  knew  but  little 
of  the  Popish  ways — whether  excellent,  or  otherwise — inas- 
much as  the  Doones,  though  they  stole  their  houses,  or  at 
least  the  Joiner's  work,  had  never  been  tempted  enough  by 
the  devil  to  steal  either  church  or  chapel. 

Lorna  came  to  our  little  church  when  Parson  Bowden  re- 
appeared after  the  snow  was  over;  and  she  said  that  all 
was  very  nice,  and  very  like  what  she  had  seen  in  the  time 
of  her  Aunt  Sabina,  when  they  went  far  away  to  the  little 
chapel,  with  a  shilling  in  their  gloves.  It  made  the  tears 
come  into  her  eyes,  by  the  force  of  memory,  when  Parson 
Bowden  did  the  things,  not  so  gracefully  nor  so  well,  yet 
with  pleasant  imitation  of  her  old  priest's  sacred  rites. 

*^  He  is  a  worthy  man,''  she  said,  being  used  to  talk  in 
the  service-time,  and  my  mother  was  obliged  to  cough:  ^*  I 
like  him  very  much  indeed:  but  I  wish  he  would  let  me 
put  his  things  the  right  way  on  his  shoulders." 

Everybody  in  our  parish  who  could  walk  at  all,  or  hire  a 
boy  and  a  wheelbarrow,  ay,  and  half  the  folk  from  Countis- 
bury,  Brendon,  and  even  Lynmouth,  was  and  were  to  be 
found  that  Sunday  in  our  little  church  of  Oare.  People 
who  would  not  come  anigh  us,  when  the  Doones  were 
threatening  with  carbine  and  with  fire-brand,  flocked  in 
their  very  best  clothes  to  see  a  lady  Doone  go  to  church. 
Now  all  this  came  of  that  vile  John  Fry;  I  knew  it  as  well 
as  possible;  his  tongue  was  worse  than  the  clacker  of  a 
charity-school  bell,  or  the  ladle  in  the  frying-pan,  when 
the  bees  are  swarming. 

However,  Lorna  was  not  troubled;  partly  because  of  her 
natural  dignity  and  gentleness,  partly  because  she  never 
dreamed  that  the  people  were  come  to  look  at  her.  But 
when  we  came  to  the  Psalms  of  the  day,  with  some  vague 
sense  of  being  stared  at  more  than  ought  to  be,  she  dropped 


A  MWnnt  MEETWG  A  SAD  OKE.  427 

the  heavy  black  lace  fringing  of  the  velvet  hat  she  wore, 
and  concealed  from  the  congregation  all  except  her  bright 
red  lips,  and  the  oval  snow-drift  of  her  chin.  I  touched 
her  hand,  and  she  pressed  mine;  and  we  felt  that  we  were 
close  together,  and  God  saw  no  harm  in  it. 

As  for  Parson  Bowden  (as  worthy  a  man  as  ever  lived, 
and  one  who  could  shoot  flying),  he  scarcely  knew  what  he 
was  doing,  without  the  clerk  to  help  him.  He  had  borne 
it  very  weH  indeed  when  I  returned  from  London;  but  to 
see  a  live  Doone  in  his  church,  and  a  lady  Doone,  and  a 
lovely  Doone,  moreover,  one  engaged  to  me,  upon^^whom 
he  almost  looked  as  the  Squire  of  his  parish  (although  not 
rightly  an  armiger),  and  to  feel  that  this  lovely  Doone 
was  a  Papist,  and  therefore  of  higher  religion — as  all  our 
parsons  think — and  that  she  knew  exactly  how  he  ought  to 
do  all  the  service,  of  which  he  himself  knew  little,  I  wish 
to  express  my  firm  belief  that  all  these  things  together 
turned  Parson  Bowden's  head  a  little,  and  made  him  look 
to  me  for  orders. 

My  mother,  the  very  best  of  women,  was  (as  I  could 
well  perceive)  a  little  annoyed  and  vexed  with  things.  For 
this  particular  occasion,  she  had  procured  from  Dulverton, 
by  special  message  to  Ruth  Huckaback  (whereof  more  anon), 
a  head-dress  with  a  feather  never  seen  before  upon  Exmoor, 
to  the  best  of  every  one's  knowledge.  It  came  from  a  bird 
called  a  flaming  something — a  flaming  oh,  or  a  flaming  ah, 
I  \\  ill  not  be  positive — but  I  can  assure  you  that  it  did 
flame;  and  dear  mother  had  no  other  thought  but  that  all 
the  congregation  would  neither  see  nor  think  of  any  other 
mortal  thing,  or  immortal  even,  to  the  very  end  of  the 
sermon. 

Herein  she  was  so  disappointed,  that  no  sooner  did  she 
get  home,  but  upstairs  she  went  at  speed,  not  even  stopping 
at'the  mirror  in  our  little  parlor,  and  flung  the  whole  thing 
to  a  cupboard,  as  I  knew  by  the  bang  of  the  door,  having 
eased  the  lock  for  her  lately.  Lorna  saw  there  was  some- 
thing wrong;  and  she  looked  at  Annie  and  Lizzie  (as  more 
likely  to  understand  it)  with  her  former  timid  glance;  which 
I  knew  so  well,  and  which  had  first  enslaved  me. 

*'  I  know  not  what  ails  mother,"  said  Annie,  who  looked 
very  beautiful,  with  lilac  lutestring  ribbons,  which  I  saw 
the  Snowe  girls  envying;  "but  she  has  not  attended  to 


428  LORNA  DOONE. 

one  of  the  prayers,  nor  said  'Amen/  all  the  morning. 
Never  fear,  darling  Lorna,  it  is  nothing  about  you.  It  is 
something  about  our  John,  I  am  sure;  for  she  never  worries 
herself  much  about  any  body  but  him.^^  And  here  Annie 
made  a  look  at  me  such  as  I  had  had  five  hundred  of. 

**You  keep  your  opinions  to  yourself,"  I  replied;  be- 
cause I  knew  the  dear,  and  her  little  bits  of  jealousy:  **it 
happens  that  you  are  quite  wrong  this  time.  Lorna,  come 
with  me,  my  darling." 

"  Oh  yes,  Lorna;  go  with  him,"  cried  Lizzie,  dropping 
her  lip,  in  a  way  which  you  must  see  to  know  its  meaning; 
*'John  wants  nobody  now  but  you;  and  none  can  find 
fault  with  his  taste,  dear." 

"  You  little  fool,  I  should  think  not,"  I  answered,  very 
rudely;  for,  betwixt  the  lot  of  them,  my  Lorna's  eyelashes 
were  quivering:  "now,  dearest  angel,  come  with  me;  and 
snap  your  hands  at  the  whole  of  them." 

My  angel  did  come,  with  a  sigh,  and  then  with  a  smile, 
when  we  were  alone,  but  without  any  unangelic  attempt  at 
snapping  her  sweet  white  fingers. 

These  little  things  are  enough  to  show  that  while  every 
one  so  admired  Lorna  and  so  kindly  took  to  her,  still 
there  would,  just  now  an  J  then,  be  petty  and  paltry  flashes 
of  jealousy  concerning  her;  and  perhaps  it  could  not  be 
otherwise  among  so  many  women.  However,  we  were 
always  doubly  kind  to  her  afterward;  and  although  her 
mind  was  so  sensitive  and  quick  that  she  must  have  suffered, 
she  never  allowed  us  to  perceive  it,  nor  lowered  herself  by 
resenting  it. 

Possibly  I  may  have  mentioned  that  little  Ruth  Hucka- 
back had  been  asked,  and  had  even  promised  to  spend  her 
Christmas  with  us;  and  this  was  the  more  desirable,  be- 
cause she  had  left  us  through  some  offense,  or  sorrow, 
about  things  said  of  her.  Now,  my  dear  mother,  befng 
the  kindest  and  best-hearted  of  all  women,  could  not  bear 
that  poor  dear  Ruth  (who  would  some  day  have  such  a 
fortune)  should  be  entirely  lost  to  us.  "  It  is  our  duty, 
my  dear  children,"  she  said  more  than  once  about  it,  "  to 
forgive  and  forget  as  freely  as  we  hope  to  have  it  done  to 
us.  If  dear  little  Ruth  has  not  behaved  quite  as  well  as 
we  might  have  expected,  great  allowance  should  be  made 
for  a  girl  with  so  much  money.     Designing  people  get  lioid 


A  MERRY  Meeting  a  sad  one,  429 

of  her,  and  flatter  her,  and  coax  her,  to  obtain  a  base  in- 
fluence over  her;  so  that  when  she  falls  among  simple  folk, 
who  speak  the  honest  truth  of  her,  no  wonder  the  poor 
child  is  vexed,  and  gives  herself  airs,  and  so  on.  Ruth 
can  be  very  useful  to  us  in  a  number  of  little  ways,  and  I 
consider  it  quite  a  duty  to  pardon  her  freak  of  petulance." 

Now  one  of  the  little  ways  in  which  Ruth  had  been  very 
useful  was  the  purchase  of  the  scarlet  feathers  of  the  flam- 
ing bird;  and  now  that  the  house  was  quite  safe  from 
attack,  and  the  mark  on  my  forehead  was  healing,  I  was 
begged  over  and  over  again,  to  go  and  see  Ruth,  and  make 
all  things  straight,  and  pay  for  the  gorgeous  plumage.  This 
last  I  was  very  desirous  to  do,  that  I  might  know  the  price  of 
it,  having  made  a  small  bet  on  the  subject  with  Annie;  and 
having  held  counsel  with  myself  whether  or  not  it  were 
possible  to  get  something  of  the  kind  for  Lorna  of  still 
more  distinguished  appearance.  Of  course  she  could  not 
wear  scarlet  as  yet,  even  if  I  had  wished  it;  but  I  believed 
that  people  of  fashion  often  wore  purple  for  mourning; 
purple,  too,  was  the  royal  color,  and  Lorna  was  by  right  a 
queen;  therefore  I  was  quite  resolved  to  ransack  IJncle 
Rueben's  stores  in  search  of  some  bright  purple  bird,  if 
nature  had  kindly  provided  one. 

All  this,  however,  I  kept  to  myself,  intending  to  trust 
Ruth  Huckaback,  and  no  one  else,  in  the  matter.  And  so, 
one  beautiful  spring  morning,  when  all  the  earth  was 
kissed  with  scent,  and  all  the  air  caressed  with  song,  up  the 
lane  I  stoutly  rode,  well  armed  and  well  provided. 

Now,  though  it  is  part  of  my  life  to  heed,  it  is  no  part  of 
my  tale  to  tell,  how  the  wheat  was  coming  on.  I  reckon  that 
you  who  read  this  story  after  I  am  dead  and  gone  (and 
before  that  none  shall  read  it)  will  say  "Tush!  What  is 
his'wheat  to  us?  We  are  not  wheat,  we  are  human  beings; 
and  all  we  care  for  is  human  doings."  This  may  be  very 
good  argument,  and  in  the  main  I  believe  that  it  is  so. 
Nevertheless,  if  a  man  is  to  tell  only  what  he  thought  and 
did,  and  not  what  came  around  him,  he  must  not  mention 
his  own  clothes,  which  his  father  and  mother  bought  for 
him.  And  more  than  my  clothes  to  me,  ay,  and  as  much 
as  my  own  skin,  are  the  works  of  nature  round  about, 
whereof  a  man  is  the  smallest. 

And  now  I  will  tell  you,  although  most  likely  only  to  be 


430  LORKA  DOOKE. 

laughed  at,  because  I  cannot  put  it  in  the  style  of  Mr. 
Dryden — whom  to  compare  to  Shakespeare!  but  if  once  I 
begin  upon  that,  you  will  never  hear  the  last  of  me — 
nevertheless,  I  will  tell  you  this;  not  wishing  to  be  rude,  but 
only  just  because  I  know  it;  the  more  a  man  can  fling  his 
arms  (so  to  say)  round  Nature's  neck,  the  more  he  can 
upon  her  bosom,  like  an  infant,  lie  and  suck,  the  more 
that  man  shall  earn  the  trust  and  love  of  all  his  fellow-men. 

In  this  matter  is  no  jealousy  (when  the  man  is  dead); 
because  thereafter  all  others  know  how  much  of  the  milk 
he  had,  and  he  can  suck  no  longer;  and  they  value  him 
accordingly,  for  the  nourishment  he  is  to  them.  Even  as 
when  we  keep  a  roaster  of  the  sucking  pigs,  we  choose, 
and  praise  at  table  most,  the  favorite  of  its  mother.  Fifty 
times  have  T  seen  this,  and  smiled  and  praised  our  people's 
taste,  and  offered  them  more  of  the  vitals. 

Nowhere  am  I  upon  Shakespeare  (who  died,  of  his  own 
fruition,  at  the  age  of  fifty-two,  yet  lived  more  than  fifty 
thousand  men,  within  his  little  span  of  life),  when  all  the 
while  I  ought  to  be  riding  as  hard  as  I  can  to  Dulverton. 
But,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  could  not  ride  hard,  being  held  at 
every  turn,  and  often  without  any  turn  at  all,  by  the  beauty 
of  things  around  me.  These  things  grow  upon  man  if 
once  he  stops  to  notice  them. 

It  wanted  yet  two  hours  to  noon,  when  I  came  to  Master 
Huckaback's  door  and  struck  the  panels  smartly.  Know- 
ing nothing  of  their  manners,  only  that  people  in  a  town 
could  not  be  expected  to  entertain  (as  we  do  in  farm- 
houses), having,  moreover,  keen  expectation  of  Master 
Huckaback's  avarice,  I  had  brought  some  stuff  to  eat, 
made  by  Annie  and  packed  by  Lorna,  and  requiring  no 
thinking  about  it. 

Ruth  herself  came  and  let  me  in,  blushing  very  heartily; 
for  which  color  I  praised  her  health,  and  my  praises 
heightened  it.  That  little  thing  had  lovely  eyes,  and 
could  be  trusted  thoroughly.  I  do  like  an  obstinate 
little  woman,  when  she  is  sure  that  she  is  right.  And 
indeed  if  love  had  not  sped  me  straight  to  the  heart  of 
Lorna  (compared  to  whom,  Ruth  was  no  more  than  the 
thief  is  to  the  candle),  who  knows  but  what  I  might  have 
yielded  to  the  law  of  nature,  that  thorough  trimmer  of 
balances,  and  verified  the  proverb  that  the  giant  loves  the 
dwarf. 


A  MERRY  MEETING  A  SAD  ONE.  431 

"I  take  the  privilege.  Mistress  Ruth,  of  saluting  you 
according  to  kiuship,  aud  the  ordering  of  the  Canons." 
And  therewith  I  bussed  her  well,  and  put  my  arm  around 
her  waist,  being  so  terribly  restricted  in  the  matter  of 
Lorna,  and  knowing  the  use  of  practice.  Not  that  1  had 
any  warmth — all  that  was  darling  Lorna's — only  out  of 
pure  gallantry,  and  my  knowledge  of  London  fashions. 
Ruth  blushed  to  such  a  pitch  at  this,  and  looked  up  at  me 
with  such  a  gleam,  as  if  I  must  have  my  own  way,  that  all 
my  love  of  kissing  sunk,  and  I  felt  that  I  was  wronging 
her.  Only  my  mother  had  told  me,  when  the  girls  were 
out  of  the  way,  to  do  all  I  could  to  please  darling  Ruth, 
and  I  had  gone  about  it  accordingly. 

Now  Ruth  as  yet  had  never  heard  a  word  about  dear 
Lorna;  and  when  she  led  me  into  the  kitchen  (where 
everything  looked  beautiful),  and  told  me  not  to  mind  for 
a  moment  about  the  scrubbing  of  my  boots,  because  she 
would  only  be  too  glad  to  clean  it  all  up  after  me, 
and  told  me  how  glad  she  was  to  see  me,  blushing  more 
at  every  word,  and  recalling  some  of  them,  and  stoop- 
ing down  for  pots  and  pans  when  I  looked  at  her  too  rud- 
dily — all  these  things  came  upon  me  so,  without  any  legal 
notice,  that  I  could  only  look  at  Ruth,  and  think  how 
very  good  she  was,  and  how  bright  her  handles  were,  and 
wonder  if  I  had  wronged  her.  Once  or  twice  I  began — 
this  I  say,  upon  my  honor— to  endeavor  to  explain  exactly  ^ 
how  we  were  at  Plovers  Barrows;  how  we  all  had  been 
bound  to  fight,  and  had  defeated  the  enemy,  keeping  their 
queen  among  us.  But  Ruth  would  make  some  great  mis- 
take between  Lorna  and  Gwenny  Carfax,  and  gave  me  no 
chance  to  set  her  aright,  and  cared  about  nothing  much, 
except  some  news  of  Sally  Snowe. 

What  could  I  do  with  this  little  thing?  All  my  sense  of 
modesty,  and  value  for  my  dinner,  were  against  my  over- 
pressing  all  the  graceful  hints  I  had  given  about  Lorna. 
Ruth  was  just  a  girl  of  that  sort  who  will  not  believe  one 
word,  except  from  her  own  seeing;  not  so  much  from  any 
doubt,  as  from  the  practice  of  using  eyes  which  have  been 
in  business. 

I  asked  Cousin  Ruth  (as  we  used  to  call  her,  though  the 
cousinship  was  distant)  what  was  become  of  Uncle  Ben, 
and  how  it  was  that  we  never  heard  anything  of  or  from 


43^  LORI^A  DOONE. 

him  now.  She  replied  that  she  hardly  knew  what  to  make 
of  her  grandfather's  manner  of  carrying  on  for  the  last 
half  year  or  more.  He  was  apt  to  leave  his  home,  she 
said,  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night;  going  none  knew 
whither,  and  returning  no  one  might  say  when.  And  liis 
dress,  in  her  opinion,  was  enough  to  frighten  a  hodman, 
or  a  scavenger  of  the  roads,  instead  of  the  decent  suit  of 
kersey,  or  of  Sabbath  doeskins,  such  as  had  won  the  re- 
spect and  reverence  of  his  fellow-townsmen.  But  the 
worst  of  all  things  was,  as  she  confessed  with  tears  in  her 
eyes,  that  the  poor  old  gentleman  had  something  weighing 
heavily  on  his  mind. 

"  It  will  shorten  his  days,  Cousin  Ridd,"  she  said,  for 
she  would  never  call  me  Cousin  John;  *'he  has  no  enjoy- 
ment of  anything  that  he  eats  or  drinks,  nor  even  in  count- 
ing his  money,  as  he  used  to  do  all  Sunday;  indeed  no 
pleasure  in  anything,  unless  it  be  smoking  his  pipe,  and 
thinking,  and  staring  at  bits  of  brown  stone,  which  he 
pulls  every  now  and  then  out  of  his  pockets.  And  the 
business  he  used  to  take  such  pride  in  is  now  left  almost 
entirely  to  the  foreman  and  to  me.'' 

*' And  what  will  become  of  you,  dear  Ruth,  if  anything 
happens  to  the  old  man?" 

^'  I  am  sure  I  know  not,"  she  answered,  simply;  ''and  I 
cannot  bear  to  think  of  it.  It  must  depend,  I  suppose, 
upon  dear  grandfather's  pleasure  about  me." 

"  It  must  rather  depend,"  said  I,  though  having  no 
business  to  say  it,  ''  upon  your  own  good  pleasure,  Ruth; 
for  all  the  world  will  pay  court  to  you." 

"That  is  the  very  thing  which  I  never  could  endure.  I 
have  begged  dear  grandfather  to  leave  no  chance  of  that. 
When  he  has  threatened  me  with  poverty,  as  he  does 
sometimes,  I  have  always  met  him  truly,  with  the  answer 
that  I  feared  one  thing  a  great  deal  worse  than  poverty — 
namely,  to  be  an  heiress.  But  I  can  not  make  him  be- 
lieve it.  Only  think  how  strange.  Cousin  Ridd,  I  can  not 
make  him  believe  it." 

"  It  is  not  strange  at  all,"  I  answered,  "  considering 
how  he  values  money.  Neither  would  any  one  else  believe 
you,  except  by  looking  into  your  true'^and  very  pretty 
eyes,  dear." 

Now  I  beg  that  no  one  will  suspect  for  a  single  moment 


A  MERRY  MEm^lNG  A  iSAD  ONE.  433 

either  that  I  did  not  mean  exactly  what  I  said,  or  meant  a 
single  atom  more,  or  would  not  have  said  the  same,  if 
Lorna  had  been  standing  by.  What  I  had  always  liked  in 
Ruth  was  the  calm,  straightforward  gaze  and  beauty  of 
her  large  brown  eyes.  Indeed  I  had  spoken  of  them  to 
Lorna  as  the  only  ones  to  be  compared  (though  not  for 
more  than  a  moment)  to  her  own  for  truth  and  light,  but 
never  for  depth  and  softness.  But  now  the  little  maiden 
dropped  them,  and  turned  away  without  reply. 

"  I  will  go  and  see  to  my  horse,"  I  said;  **  the  boy  that 
has  taken  him  seemed  surprised  at  his  having  no  horns  on 
his  forehead.  Perhaps  he  will  lead  him  into  the  shop  and 
feed  him  upon  broadcloth." 

"  Oh,  he  is  such  a  stupid  boy,"  Ruth  answered,  with 
great  sympathy;  "  how  quick  of  you  to  observe  that  now; 
and  you  call  yourself  *Slow  John  Ridd!'  I  never  did  see 
such  a  stupid  boy;  sometimes  he  spoils  my  temper.  But 
you  must  be  back  in  half  an  hour '  at  the  latest,  Cousin 
Ridd.  You  see  I  remember  what  you  are,  when  once  you 
get  among  horses,  or  cows,  or  things  of  that  sort." 

"Things  of  that  sort!  Well  done,  Ruth!  One  would 
think  you  were  quite  a  cockney." 

Uncle  Reuben  did  not  come  home  to  his  dinner,  and  his 
granddaughter  said  she  had  strictest  orders  never  to  expect 
him.  Therefore  we  had  none  to  dine  with  us  except  the 
foreman  of  the  shop,  a  worthy  man,  named  Thomas  Cock- 
ram,  fifty  years  of  age  or  so.  He  seemed  to  me  to  have 
strong  intentions  of  his  own  about  little  Ruth;  and  on  that 
account  to  regard  me  with  a  wholly  undue  malevolence. 
And  perhaps,  in  order  to  justify  him,  I  may  have  been 
more  attentive  to  her  than  otherwise  need  have  been;  at 
any  rate,  Ruth  and  I  were  pleasant,  and  he  the  very 
opposite. 

*'  My  dear  Cousin  Ruth,"  I  said,  on  purpose  to  vex  Mas- 
ter Cockram,  because  he  eyed  us  so  heavily  and  squinted  so 
unluckily,  "we  have  been  long  looking  for  you  at  our 
Plovers  Barrows  farm.  You  remember  how  you  used  to 
love  hunting  for  eggs  in  the  morning,  and  hiding  up  in  the 
tallat  with  Lizzie,  for  me  to  seek  you  among  the  hay,  when 
the  sun  was  down.  Ah,  Master  Cockram,  those  are  the 
things  young  people  find  their  pleasure  in,  not  in  selling  a 
yard  of  serge,  and  giving  twopence-halfpenny  change,  and 


4.34  LOHNA  DOONE. 

writing  'settled'  at  the  bottom  with  a  pencil  that  has 
blacked  their  teeth.  Now,  Master  Cockrain,  you  ought  to 
come  as  far  as  our  good  farm  at  once  and  eat  two  new-laid 
eggs  for  breakfast,  and  be  made  to  look  quite  young  again. 
Our  good  Annie  would  cook  for  you;  and  you  should  have 
the  hot  new  milk,  and  the  pope's  eye  from  the  mutton; 
and  every  foot  of  you  would  become  a  yard  in  about  a  fort- 
night." And  hereupon  I  spread  my  chest,  to  show  him  an 
example.  Ruth  could  not  keep  her  countenance;  but  I 
saw  that  she  thought  it  wrong  of  me,  and  would  scold  mo 
if  ever  I  gave  her  the  chance  of  taking  those  little  liberties. 
However,  he  deserved  it  all,  according  to  my  young  ideas, 
for  his  great  impertinence  in  aiming  at  my  cousin. 

But  what  I  said  was  far  less  grievous  to  a  man  of  honest 
mind  than  little  Ruth's  own  behavior.  I  could  hardly 
have  believed  that  so  thoroughly  true  a  girl,  and  one  so 
proud  and  upright,  could  have  got  rid  of  any  man  so 
cleverly  as  she  got  rid  of  Master  Thomas  Cockram.  She 
gave  him  not  even  a  glass  of  wine,  but  commended  to  his 
notice,  with  a  sweet  and  thoughtful  gravity,  some  invoice 
which  must  be  corrected  before  her  dear  grandfather  should 
return;  and  to  amend  which,  three  great  ledgers  must  be 
searched  from  first  to  last.  Thomas  Cockram  winked  at 
me  with  the  worst  of  his  two  wrong  eyes;  as  much  as  to 
say,  "I  understand  it;  but  I  cannot  help  myself.  Only  you 
look  out,  if  ever'' — and  before  he  had  finished  winking, 
the  door  was  shut  behind  him.  Then  Ruth  said  to  me  in 
the  simplest  manner,  ''You  have  ridden  far  to-day,  Cousin 
Ridd;  and  have  far  to  ride  to  get  home  again.  What  will 
dear  Aunt  Ridd  say  if  we  send  you  away  without  nourish- 
ment? All  the  keys  are  in  my  keeping,  and  dear  grand- 
father has  the  finest  wine,  not  be  matched  in  the  west  of 
England,  as  I  have  heard  good  judges  say;  though  1  know 
not  wine  from  cider.  Do  you  like  the  wine  of  Oporto,  or 
the  wine  of  Xeres?" 

"  I  know  not  one  from  the  other,  fair  cousin,  except  by 
the  color,"  I  answered:  "but  the  sound  of  Oporto  is 
nobler  and  richer.     Suppose  we  try  wine  of  Oporto." 

The  good  little  creature  went  and  fetched  a  black  bottle 
of  an  ancient  cast,  covered  with  dust  and  cobwebs.  These 
I  was  anxious  to  shake  aside;  and  indeed  I  thought  that 
the  wine  would   be  better  for  being  roused  up  a  little. 


A  MERRY  MEETING  A  SAD  ONE,  436 

Ruth,  however,  would  not  hear  a  single  word  to  that  pur- 
port; and  seeing  that  she  knew  more  about  it,  I  left  her  to 
manage  it.  And  the  result  was  very  fine  indeed,  to-wit,  a 
sparkling,  rosy  liquor,  dancing  with  little  flashes 
of  light,  and  scented  like  new  violets.  With  this 
1  was  so  pleased  and  gay,  and  Ruth  so  glad  to  see  me 
gay,  that  we  quite  forgot  how  the  time  went  on;  and 
though  my  fair  cousin  would  not  be  persuaded  to  take  a 
second  glass  herself,  she  kept  on  filling  mine  so  fast  that 
it  was  never  empty,  though  I  did  my  best  to  keep  it  so. 

*'  What  is  a  little  drop  like  this  to  a  man  of  your  size 
and  strength.  Cousin  Ridd?"  she  said,  with  her  cheeks  just 
brushed  with  rose,  which  made  her  look  very  beautiful:  "  I 
have  heard  you  say  that  your  head  is  so  thick — or  rather 
so  clear,  you  ought  to  say — that  no  liquor  ever  moves  it." 

*' That  is  right  enough,"  I  answered;  "what  a  witch 
you  must  be,  dear  Ruth,  to  have  remembered  that  now!" 

'*  Oh,  I  remember  every  word  I  have  ever  heard  you  say, 
Cousiu  Ridd;  because  your  voice  is  so  deep,  you  know,  and 
you  talk  so  little.  Now  it  is  useless  to  say 'no. ^  These 
bottles  hold  almost  nothing.  Dear  grandfather  will  not 
come  home,  I  fear,  until  long  after  you  are  gone.  What 
will  Aunt  Ridd  think  of  me,  I  am  sure?  You  are  all  so 
dreadfully  hospitable.  Now  not  another  *  no,'  Cousin  Ridd. 
We  must  have  another  bottle." 

*'  Well,  must  is  must,"  I  answered,  with  a  certain  resig- 
nation. **  I  cannot  bear  bad  manners,  dear;  and  how  old 
are  you  next  birthday?" 

*'  Eighteen,  dear  John,"  said  Ruth,  coming  over  with 
the  empty  bottle;  and  I  was  pleased  at  her  calling  me 
*^  John,"  and  had  a  great  mind  to  kiss  her.  However  I 
thought  of  my  Lorna  suddenly,  and  of  the  anger  I  should 
feel  if  a  man  went  on  with  her  so;  therefore  I  lay  back  in 
my  chair,  to  wait  for  the  other  bottle. 

"  Do  you  remember  how  we  danced  that  night?"  I 
asked,  while  she  was  opening  it;  "and  how  you  were 
afraid  of  me  first,  because  I  looked  so  tall,  dear?" 

"  Yes,  and  so  very  broad.  Cousin  Ridd.  I  thought  that 
you  would  eat  me.  But  I  have  come  to  know  since  then 
how  very  kind  and  good  you  are." 

"  And  will  you  come  and  dance  again  at  my  wedding. 
Cousin  Ruth?" 


436  LORNA  BOONE, 

She  nearly  let  the  bottle  fall,  the  last  of  which  she  was 
sloping  carefully  into  a  vessel  of  bright  glass;  and  then 
she  raised  her  hand  again,  and  finished  it  judiciously.  And 
after  that  she  took  the  window,  to  see  that  all  her  work 
was  clear;  and  then  she  poured  me  out  a  glass,  and  said, 
with  very  pale  cheeks,  but  else  no  sign  of  meaning  about 
her,  ''  What  did  you  ask  me,  Cousin  Ridd?" 

"  Nothing  of  any  importance,  Ruth:  only  we  are  so  fond 
of  you.  I  mean  to  be  married  as  soon  as  I  can.  Will  you 
come  and  help  us?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  will.  Cousin  Ridd — unless,  unless,  dear 
grandfather  can  not  spare  me  from  the  business."  She 
went  away,  and  her  breast  was  heaving  like  a  rick  of  under- 
carried  hay.  And  she  stood  at  the  window  long,  trying  to 
make  yawns  of  sighs. 

For  my  part,  I  knew  not  what  to  do.  And  yet  I  could 
think  about  it  as  I  never  could  with  Lorna,  with  whom  1 
was  always  in  a  whirl,  from  the  power  of  my  love.  So  I 
thought  some  time  about  it,  and  perceived  that  it  was  the 
manliest  way  just  to  tell  her  everything,  except  that  I 
feared  she  liked  me.  But  it  seemed  to  me  unaccountable 
that  she  did  not  even  ask  the  name  of  my  intended  wife. 
Perhaps  she  thought  that  it  must  be  Sally,  or  perhaps  she 
feared  to  trust  her  voice. 

*^  Corne  and  sit  by  me,  dear  Ruth,  and  listen  to  a  long, 
long  story,  how  things  have  come  about  with  me.^' 

**No,  thank  you.  Cousin  Ridd,"  she  answered;  *'^at  least 
I  mean  that  I  shall  be  happy — that  I  shall  be  ready  to  hear 
you — to  listen  to  you,  I  mean,  of  course.  But  I  would 
rather  stay  where  I  am,  and  have  the  air — or  rather  be  able 
to  watch  for  dear  grandfather  coming  home.  He  is  so  kind 
and  good  to  me.     What  should  I  do  without  him?" 

Then  I  told  her  how,  for  years  and  years,  I  had  been 
attached  to  Lorna,  and  all  the  dangers  and  difficulties 
which  had  so  long  beset  us,  and  how  I  hoped  that  those 
were  passing,  and  no  other  might  come  between  us,  except 
on  the  score  of  religion  ;  upon  which  point  I  trusted  soon 
to  overcome  my  mother's  objections.  And  then  I  told  her 
how  poor,  and  helpless,  and  alone  in  the  world  my  Lorna 
was,  and  how  sad  all  her  youth  had  been  until  I  brought 
her  away  at  last.  And  many  other  little  things  I  men- 
tioned, which  there  is  no  need  for  me  again  to  dwell  upon. 


A  MERRY  MEETING  A  SAD  ONE.  437 

Ruth  heard  it  all  without  a  word,  and  without  once  look- 
ing at  me;  and  only  by  her  attitude  could  I  guess  that  she 
was  weeping.  Then,  when  all  my  tale  was  told,  she  asked 
in  a  low  and  gentle  voice,  but  still  without  showing  her 
face  to  me. 

*' And  does  she  love  you.  Cousin  Ridd?  Does  she  say 
that  she  loves  you,  with — with  all  her  heart?" 

"  Certainly  she  does,"  I  answered.  '^Do  you  think  it 
impossible  for  one  like  her  to  do  so?" 

She  said  no  more,  but  crossed  the  room  before  I  had  time 
to  look  at  her,  and  came  behind  my  chair,  and  kissed  me 
gently  on  the  forehead. 

"  I  hope  you  may  be  very  happy  with — I  mean  in  your 
new  life,"  she  whispered  very  softly;  '*  as  happy  as  you  de- 
serve to  be,  and  as  happy  as  you  can  make  others  be.  Now 
how  I  have  been  neglecting  you!  I  am  quite  ashamed  of 
myself  for  thinking  only  of  grandfather,  and  it  makes  me 
so  low-spirited.  You  have  told  me  a  very  nice  romance, 
and  I  have  never  even  helped  you  to  a  glass  of  wine.  Here, 
pour  it  for  yourself,  dear  cousin;  I  shall  be  back  again 
directly." 

Witli  that  she  was  out  of  the  door  in  a  moment  :  and 
when  she  came  back,  you  would  not  have  thought  that  a 
tear  had  dimmed  those  large  bright  eyes,  or  wandered  down 
those  pale  clear  cheeks.  Only  her  hands  were  cold  and 
trembling,  and  she  made  me  help  myself. 

Uncle  Reuben  did  not  appear  at  all;  and  Ruth,  who  had 
promised  to  come  and  see  us,  and  stay  for  a  fortnight  at 
our  house  (if  her  grandfather  could  spare  her),  now  dis- 
covered, before  I  left,  that  she  must  not  think  of  doing  so. 
Perhaps  she  was  right  in  deciding  thus;  at  any  rate,  it  had 
now  become  improper  for  me  to  press  her.  And  yet  I  now 
desired  tenfold  that  she  should  consent  to  come,  thinking 
that  Lorna  herself  would  work  the  speediest  cure  of  her 
passing  whim. 

For  such,  I  tried  to  persuade  myself,  was  the  nature  of 
Ruth's  regard  for  me;  and  upon  looking  back  I  could  not 
charge  myself  with  any  misconduct  toward  the  little  maiden. 
I  had  never  sought  her  company,  I  had  never  trifled  with 
her  (at  least  until  that  very  day),  and  being  so  engrossed 
with  my  own  love,  I  had  scarcely  ever  thought  of  her. 
And  the  maiden  would  never  have  thought  of  me,  except 


43«  LORNA  DOONE. 

as  a  clumsy  yokel,  but  for  my  mother's  and  sister's  med- 
dling, and  their  wily  suggestions.  I  believe  they  had  told 
the  little  soul  that  I  was  deeply  in  love  with  her,  although 
they  both  stoutly  denied  it.  But  who  can  place  trust  in  a 
woman's  word,  when  it  comes  to  a  question  of  match- 
making. 


A  VISIT  FROM  THE  COUNSELOR,  430 


CHAPTER  LI. 

A  VISIT  FROM  THE  COUIS'SELOR. 

Now  WHILE  I  was  riding  home  that  evening,  with  a 
tender  conscience  about  Ruth,  although  not  a  wounded 
one,  I  guessed  but  little  that  all  my  thoughts  were  needed 
much  for  my  own  affairs.  So,  however,  it  proved  to  be; 
for  as  I  came  in,  soon  after  dark,  my  sister  Eliza  met  me 
at  the  corner  of  the  cheese-room,  and  she  said,  "  Don't  go 
in  there,  John,"  pointing  to  mother's  room,  ''  until  I  have 
had  a  talk  with  you." 

"  In  the  name  of  Moses,"  I  inquired,  having  picked  up 
that  phrase  at  Dulverton,  "  what  are  you  at  about  me  now? 
There  is  no  peace  for  a  quiet  fellow." 

**  It  is  nothing  we  are  at,"  she  answered;  "  neither  may 
you  may  make  light  of  it.  It  is  something  very  important 
about  Mistress  Lorna  Doone." 

"  Let  us  have  it  at  once,"  I  cried;  "  I  can  bear  anything 
about  Lorna  except  that  she  does  not  care  for  me." 

''  It  has  nothing  to  do  with  that,  John.  And  I  am  quite 
sure  that  you  never  need  fear  anything  of  that  sort.  She 
perfectly  wearies  me  sometimes,  although  her  voice  is  so 
soft  and  sweet,  about  your  endless  perfections." 

*' Bless  her  little  heart!"  I  said;  ''the  subject  is  inex- 
haustible." 

''  No  doubt!"  replied  Lizzie,  in  the  driest  manner;  ''es- 
pecially to  your  sisters.  However,  this  is  no  time  to  joke. 
I  fear  you  will  get  the  worst  of  it,  John.  Do  you  know  a 
man  of  about  Gwenny's  shape,  nearly  as  broad  as  he  is 
long,  but  about  six  times  the  size  of  Gwenny,  and  with  a 
length  of  snow-white  hair,  and  a  thickness  also,  as  the 
copses  were  last  winter.  He  never  can  comb  it,  that  is 
quite  certain,  with  any  comb  yet  invented." 

"  Then  you  go  and  offer  your  services.  There  are  few 
things  you  can  not  scarify.     I  know  the  man  from  your 


440  LORNA  DOONE. 

description,  although  I  have  never  seen  him.  Now  where 
is  my  Lorna?*' 

"  Your  Lorna  is  with  Annie,  having  a  good  cry,  I  be- 
lieve; and  Annie  too  glad  to  second  her.  She  knows  that 
this  great  man  is  here,  and  knows  that  he  wants  to  see  her. 
But  she  begged  to  defer  the  interview  until  dear  John's 
return." 

"  What  a  nasty  way  you  have  of  telling  the  very  com- 
monest piece  of  news!"  I  said,  on  purpose  to  pay  her  out. 
''  What  man  will  ever  fancy  you,  you  unlucky  little  snap- 
per? Now  no  more  nursery  talk  for  me.  I  will  go  and 
settle  this  business.  You  had  better  go  and  dress  your 
dolls,  if  you  can  give  them  clothes  unpoisoned."  Here- 
upon Lizzie  burst  into  a  perfect  roar  of  tears,  feeling  that 
she  had  the  worst  of  it.  And  I  took  her  up  and  begged 
her  pardon,  although  she  scarcely  deserved  it;  for  she  knew 
that  I  was  out  of  luck,  and  she  might  have  spared  her 
satire. 

I  was  almost  sure  that  the  man  who  was  come  must  be 
the  Counselor  himself;  of  whom  I  felt  much  keener  fear 
than  of  his  sun  Carver.  And  knowing  that  his  visit  boded 
ill  to  me  and  Lorna,  I  went  and  sought  my  dear,  and  led 
her,  with  a  heavy  heart,  from  the  maiden's  room  to 
mother's,  to  meet  our  dreadful  visitor. 

Mother  was  standing  by  the  door,  making  courtesies  now 
and  then,  and  listening  to  a  long  harangue  upon  the  rights 
of  state  and  land,  which  the  Counselor  (having  found  that 
she  was  the  owner  of  her  property,  and  knew  nothing  of 
her  title  to  it)  was  encouraged  to  deliver.  My  dear  mother 
stood  gazing  at  him,  spell-bound  by  his  eloquence,  and  only 
hoping  that  he  would  stop.  He  was  shaking  his  hair  upon 
his  shoulders,  in  the  power  of  his  words,  and  his  wrath  at 
some  little  thing,  which  he  declared  to  be  quite  illegal. 

Then  I  ventured  to  show  myself,  in  the  flesh,  before 
him,  although  he  feigned  not  to  see  me;  but  he  advanced 
with  zeal  to  Lorna,  holding  out  both  hands  at  once. 

''  My  darling  child,  my  dearest  niece,  how  wonderfully 
well  you  look!  Mistress  Ridd,  I  give  you  credit.  This  is 
the  country  of  good  things.  I  never  would  have  believed 
our  queen  could  have  looked  so  royal.  Surely,  of  all 
virtues  hospitality  is  the  finest,  and  the  most  romantic. 
Dearest  Lorna,  kiss  your  uncle;  it  is  quite  a  privilege." 


A  VISIT  FROM  THE  COUNSELOR.  441 

**  Perhaps  it  is  to  you,  sir,"  said  Lorna,  who  could  never 
quite  check  her  sense  of  oddity;  ''  but  I  fear  that  you  have 
smoked  tobacco,  which  spoils  reciprocity." 

"  You  are  right,  my  child.  How  keen  your  scent  is! 
It  is  always  so  with  us.  Your  grandfather  was  noted  for 
his  olfactory  powers.  Ah,  a  great  loss,  dear  Mrs.  Ridd — a 
terrible  loss  to  this  neighborhood!  As  one  of  our  great 
writers  says — I  think  it  must  be  Milton — *  We  ne'er  shall 
look  upon  his  like  again.'" 

"  With  your  good  leave,  sir,"  I  broke  in,  ''  Master  Milton 
could  never  have  written  so  sweet  and  simple  a  line  as  that. 
It  is  one  of  the  great  Shakspeare." 

"  Woe  is  me  for  my  neglect!  "  said  the  Counselor,  bowing 
airily;  **this  must  be  your  son,  Mistress  Ridd,  the  great 
John,  the  wrestler.  And  one  who  meddles  with  the  muses! 
Ah,  since  I  was  young,  how  everything  is  changed,  madam! 
Except,  indeed,  the  beauty  of  women,  which  seems  to  me 
to  increase  every  year."  Here  the  old  villain  bowed  to  my 
mother;  and  she  blushed  and  made  another  courtesy,  and 
really  did  look  very  nice. 

'^  Now,  though  I  have  quoted  the  poets  amiss,  as  your 
son  informs  me  (for  which  I  tender  my  best  thanks,  and 
must  amend  my  reading),  I  can  hardly  be  wrong  in  assum- 
ing that  this  young  armiger  must  be  the  too  attractive 
cynosure  to  our  poor  little  maiden.  And,  for  my  part,  she 
is  welcome  to  him.  I  have  never  been  one  of  those  who 
dwell  upon  distinctions  of  rank,  and  birth,  and  such  like, 
as  if  they  were  in  the  heart  of  nature,  and  must  be  eternal. 
In  early  youth  I  may  have  thought  so,  and  been  full  of 
that  little  pride.  But  now  I  have  long  accounted  it  one  of 
the  first  axioms  of  political  economy — you  are  following 
me.  Mistress  Ridd?" 

*'  Well,  sir,  I  am  doing  my  best;  but  I  can  not  quite  keep 
up  with  you." 

"  Never  mind,  madam;  I  will  be  slower.  But  your  son's 
intelligence  is  so  quick " 

"  I  see,  sir;  you  thought  that  mine  must  be.  But  no;  it 
all  comes  from  his  father,  sir.  His  father  was  that  quick 
and  clever " 

*'Ah,  I  can  well  suppose  it,  madam.  And  a  credit  he 
is  to  both  of  you.  Now,  to  return  to  our  muttons — a 
figure  which  you  will  appreciate — I  may  now  be  regarded. 


442  LORNA  DOONE. 

I  think,  as  this  young  lady's  legal  guardian,  although  I 
have  not  had  the  honor  of  being  formally  appointed  such. 
Her  father  was  the  eldest  son  of  Sir  Ensor  Doone,  and  I 
happened  to  be  the  second  son;  and  as  young  maidens  can 
not  be  baronets,  I  suppose  I  am  'Sir  Counselor/  Is  it  so, 
Mistress  Ridd,  according  to  your  theory  of  genealogy?" 

"I  am  sure  I  don't  know,  sir,"  my  mother  answered 
carefully:  **  I  know  not  anything  of  that  name,  sir,  except 
in  the  Gospel  of  Matthew;  but  I  see  not  why  it  should  be 
otherwise." 

**Good,  madam!  I  may  look  upon  that  as  your  sanction 
and  approval,  and  the  college  of  heralds  shall  hear  of  it. 
And  in  return,  as  Lorna's  guardian,  I  give  my  full  and 
ready  consent  to  her  marriage  with  your  son,  madam." 

*<0h  how  good  of  you,  sir — how  kind!  Well,  I  always 
did  say  that  the  learnedest  people  were  almost  always  the 
best  and  kindest,  and  the  most  simple-hearted." 

*' Madam,  that  is  a  great  sentiment.  What  a  goodly 
couple  they  will  be!  and  if  we  can  add  him  to  our 
strength " 

"Oh  no,  sir,  oh  no!"  cried  mother;  ''you  really  must 
not  think  of  it.  He  has  always  been  brought  up  so 
honest " 

"Hem!  that  makes  a  difference.  A  decided  disqualifi- 
cation for  domestic  life  among  the  Doones.  But  surely  he 
might  get  over  those  prejudices,  madam?" 

"Oh  no,  sir!  he  never  can;  he  never  can,  indeed. 
When  he  was  only  that  high,  sir,  he  could  not  steal  even 
an  apple  when  some  wicked  boys  tried  to  mislead  him." 

"Ah!"  replied  the  Counselor,  shaking  his  white  head 

fravely ;  "  then  I  greatly  fear  that  his  case  is  quite  incurable, 
have  known  such  cases;  violent  prejudice,  ored  entirely  of 
education,  and  anti-economical  to  the  last  degree.  And 
when  it  is  so,  it  is  desperate;  no  man,  after  imbibing  ideas  of 
that  sort,  can  in  any  way  be  useful." 

Oh  yes,  sir,  John  is  very  useful.  He  can  do  as  much 
work  as  three  other  men;  and  you  should  see  him  load  a 
sled,  sir." 

"  I  was  speaking,  madam,  of  higher  usefulness — power 
of  the  brain  and  heart.  The  main  thing  for  us  upon  earth 
is  to  take  a  large  view  of  things.  But  while  we  talk  of  the 
heart,  what  is  my  niece  Lorna  doing,  that  she  does  not 


A  VISIT  FROM  THE  COUNSELOR,  443 

come  and  thank  me  for  my  perhaps  too  prompt  concession 
to  her  youthful  fancies?  Ah!  if  I  had  wanted  thanks,  I 
should  have  been  more  stubborn." 

Lorna,  being  challenged  thus,  came  up  and  looked  at 
her  uncle,  with  her  noble  eyes  fixed  full  upon  his,  which 
beneath  his  white  eyebrows,  glistened  like  dormer  win- 
dows piled  with  snow. 

"  For  what  am  I  to  thank  you,  uncle?" 

"My  dear  niece,  I  have  told  you.  For  removing  the 
heaviest  obstacle,  which  to  a  mind  so  well  regulated  could 
possibly  have  existed  between  your  dutiful  self  and  the 
object  of  your  affections." 

"  Well,  uncle,  I  should  be  very  grateful  if  I  thought 
that  you  did  so  from  love  of  me,  or  if  I  did  not  know  that 
you  have  something  yet  concealed  from  me." 

"And  my  consent,"  said  the  Counselor,  "is  the  more 
meritorious,  the  more  liberal,  frank  and  candid,  in  the  face 
of  an  existing  fact,  and  a  very  clearly  established  one, 
which  might  have  appeared  to  weaker  minds  in  the  light 
of  an  impediment;  but  to  my  loftier  view  of  matrimony 
seems  quite  a  recommendation." 

"  What  fact  do  you  mean,  sir?  Is  it  one  that  I  ought  to 
know?" 

"In  my  opinion  it  is,  good  niece.  It  forms,  to  my 
mind,  so  fine  a  basis  for  the  invariable  harmony  of  the 
matrimonial  state.  To  be  brief — as  I  always  endeavor  to 
be,  without  becoming  obscure — you  two  young  people  (ah, 
what  a  gift  is  youth!  one  can  never  be  too  thankful  for  it) 
will  have  thp  rare  advantage  of  commencing  married  life 
with  a  subject  of  common  interest  to  discuss,  whenever  you 
weary  of — well,  say  of  one  another;  if  you  can  now,  by  any 
means,  conceive  such  a  possibility.  And  perfect  justice 
meted  out:  mutual  good-will  resulting  from  the  sense  of 
reciprocity. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  sir.  Why  can  you  not  say 
what  you  mean  at  once?" 

"  My  dear  child,  I  prolong  your  suspense.  Curiosity  is 
the  most  powerful  of  all  feminine  instincts,  and,  therefore, 
the  most  delightful,  when  not  prematurely  satisfied. 
However,  if  you  must  have  my  strong  realities,  here  they 
are.  Your  father  slew  dear  John's  father,  and  dear  John's 
father  slew  yours." 


444  LORNA  DOONB, 

Having  said  thus  much,  the  Counselor  leaned  back  upon 
his  chair,  and  shaded  his  calm  white-bearded  eyes  from 
the  rays  of  our  tallow  candles.  He  was  a  man  who  liked 
to  look,  rather  than  to  be  looked  at.  But  Lorna  came  to 
nie  for  aid,  and  I  went  up  to  Lorna,  and  mother  looked 
at  both  of  us. 

Then  feeling  that  I  must  speak  first  (as  no  one  would 
begin  it),  I  took  my  darling  round  the  waist,  and  led  her  up 
to  the  Counselor,  while  she  tried  to  bear  it  bravely,  yet 
must  lean  on  me,  or  did. 

'*Now,  Sir  Counselor  Doone,"  I  said,  with  Lorna 
squeezing  both  my  hands,  I  never  yet  knew  how  (consider- 
ing that  she  was  walking  all  the  time,  or  sometliing  like 
it),  "you  know  right  well.  Sir  Counselor,  that  Sir  Ensor 
Doone  gave  approval.''  I  cannot  tell  what  made  me  think 
of  this;  but  so  it  came  upon  me. 

''Approval  to  what,  good  rustic  John?  To  the 
slaughter  so  reciprocal?" 

''  No,  sir,  not  to  that,  even  if  it  ever  happened,  which  I 
do  not  believe.  But  to  the  love  betwixt  me  and  Lorna; 
which  your  story  shall  not  break,  without  more  evidence 
than  your  word.  And  even  so,  shall  never  break,  if  Lorna 
thinks  as  I  do." 

The  maiden  gave  me  a  little  touch,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"You  are  right,  darling;  give  it  to  him  again  like  that." 
However,  I  held  my  peace,  well  knowing  that  too  many 
words  do  mischief. 

Then  mother  looked  at  me  with  wonder,  being  herself 
too  amazed  to  speak;  and  the  Counselor  looked,  with 
great  wrath  in  his  eyes,  which  he  tried  to  keep  from 
burning. 

"  How  say  you,  then,  John  Ridd,"  he  cried,  stretching 
out  one  hand  like  Elijah;  "is  this  a  thing  of  the  sort  you 
love?    Is  this  what  you  are  used  to?" 

"So  please  your  worship,"  I  answered;  "no  kind  of 
violence  can  surprise  us,  since  first  came  Doones  upon 
Exmoor.  Up  to  that  time  none  heard  of  harm,  except  of 
taking  a  purse,  maybe,  or  cutting  a  strange  sheep's  throat. 
And  the  poor  folk  who  did  this  were  hanged,  with  some 
benefit  of  clergy.  But  ever  since  the  Doones  came  first, 
we  are  used  to  anything." 

"  Thou  varlet,"  cried  the  Counselor,  with  the  color  of 


A  VISIT  FROM  THE  COUNSELOR.  445 

his  eyes  quite  changed  with  the  sparkles  of  his  fury,  *'is 
this  the  way  we  are  to  deal  with  such  a  low-bred  clod  as 
thou?  To  question  the  doings  of  our  people  and  to  talk 
of  clergy!  What!  dream  you  not  that  we  could  have 
clergy,  and  of  the  right  sort  too,  if  we  only  cared  to  have 
them?  Tush!  Am  I  to  spend  my  time  arguing  with  a 
plow-tail  Bob?" 

"  If  your  worship  will  heaken  to  me,"  I  answered  very 
modestly,  not  wishing  to  speak  harshly,  with  Lorna  look- 
ing up  at  me,  *Hhere  are  many  things  that  might  be  said, 
without  any  kind  of  argument,  which  I  would  never  wish 
to  try  with  one  of  your  worship's  learning.  And  in  the 
first  place  it  seems  to  me  that  if  our  fathers  hated  one 
another  bitterly,  yet  neither  won  the  victory,  only  mutual 
discomfiture,  surely  that  is  but  a  reason  why  we  should  be 
wiser  than  they,  and  make  it  up  in  this  generation  by 
good-will  and  loving " 

"  Oh,  John,  you  wiser  than  your  father!"  mother  broke 
upon  me  here:  *^not  but  what  you  might  be  as  wise  when 
you  come  to  be  old  enough." 

"  Young  people  of  the  present  age,"  said  the  Counselor^ 
severely,  *^have  no  right  feeling  of  any  sort  u^on  the 
simplest  matter.  Lorna  Doone,  stand  forth  from  contact 
with  that  heir  of  parricide,  and  state,  in  your  own  melli- 
fluous voice,  whether  you  regard  this  slaughter  as  a 
pleasant  trifle." 

*'  You  know,  without  any  words  of  mine,"  she  answered 
very  softly,  yet  not  withdrawing  from  my  hand,  **  that 
although  I  have  been  seasoned  well  to  every  kind  of  out- 
rage among  my  gentle  relatives,  I  have  not  yet  so  purely- 
lost  all  sense  of  right  and  wrong  as  to  receive  what  you 
have  said  as  lightly  as  you  declared  it.  You  think  it  a 
happy  basis  for  our  future  concord.  I  do  not  quite  think 
that,  my  uncle;  neither  do  I  quite  believe  that  a  word  of  it 
is  true.  In  our  happy  valley,  nine-tenths  of  what  is  said 
is  false;  and  you  were  always  wont  to  argue  that  true  and 
false  are  but  a  blind  turned  upon  a  pivot.  Without  any 
failure  of  reijpect  for  your  character,  good  uncle,  I  decline 
politely  to  believe  a  word  of  what  you  have  told  me.  And 
even  if  it  were  proved  to  me,  all  I  can  say  is  this,  if  my 
John  will  have  me,  I  am  his  forever." 

This  long  speech  was  too  much  for  her;  she  had  over- 


446  LORNA  BOONE. 

rated  her  strength  about  it,  and  the  sustenance  of  irony. 
So  at  last  she  fell  into  my  arms,  which  had  long  been  wait- 
ing for  her;  and  there  she  lay  with  no  other  sound  except 
a  gurgling  in  her  throat. 

*' You  old  villain!"  cried  my  mother,  shaking  her  fist  at 
the  Counselor,  while  I  could  do  nothing  else  but  hold  and 
bend  across  my  darling,  and  whisper  to  deaf  ears,  "  What 
is  the  good  of  the  quality,  if  this  is  all  that  comes  of  it? 
Out  of  the  way!  You  know  the  words  that  make  the  deadly 
mischief,  but  not  the  ways  that  heal  them.  Give  me  the 
bottle,  if  hands  you  have;  what  is  the  use  of  Counselors?" 

I  saw  that  dear  mother  was  carried  away;  and  indeed  I 
myself  was  something  like  it,  with  the  pale  face  upon  my 
bosom,  and  the  heaving  of  the  heart,  and  the  heat  and 
cold  all  through  me,  as  my  darling  breathed  or  lay.  Mean- 
while the  Counselor  stood  back,  and  seemed  a  little  sorry; 
although,  of  course,  it  was  not  in  his  power  to  be  at  all 
ashamed  of  himself. 

*'  My  sweet  love,  my  darling  child,"  our  mother  went  on 
to  Lorna  in  a  way  that  I  shall  never  forget,  though  I  live 
to  be  a  hundred;  ^'pretty  pet,  not  a  word  of  it  is  true, 
upon  that  old  liar's  oath;  and  if  every  word  were  true,  poor 
chick,  you  should  have  our  John  all  the  more  for  it.  You 
and  John  were  made  by  God,  and  meant  for  one  another, 
whatever  falls  between  you.  Little  lamb,  look  up  and 
speak:  here  is  your  own  John  and  I;  and  the  devil  take 
the  Counselor." 

I  was  amazed  at  mother's  words,  being  so  unlike  her, 
while  I  loved  her  all  the  more  because  she  forgot  herself  so. 
In  another  moment  in  ran  Annie,  ay,  and  Lizzie  also, 
knowing  by  some  mystic  sense  (which  I  have  often  noticed, 
but  never  could  explain)  that  something  was  astir  belong- 
ing to  the  world  of  women,  yet  foreign  to  the  eyes  of  men. 
And  now  the  Counselor,  being  well-born,  although  such  a 
heartless  miscreant,  beckoned  to  me  to  come  away;  which 
I,  being  smothered  with  women,  was  only  too  glad  to  do  as 
soon  as  my  own  love  would  let  go  of  me. 

"That  is  the  worst  of  them," said  the  old  man,  when  I 
had  led  him  into  our  kitchen,  with  an  apology  at  every 
step,  and  given  him  hot  schnapps  and  water,  and  a  cigarro 
of  brave  Tom  Faggus';  ''you  never  can  say  much,  sir,  in 
the  way  of  reasoning  (however  gently  meant  and  put),  but 


A  VISIT  FROM  THE  COUNSELOR.  447 

what  these  women  will  fly  out.  It  is  wiser  to  put  a  wild 
bird  in  a  cage,  and  expect  him  to  sit  and  look  at  you,  and 
chirp  without  a  feather  rumpled,  than  it  is  to  expect  a 
woman  to  answer  reason  reasonably."  Saying  this,  he 
looked  at  his  puff  of  smoke  as  if  it  contained  more  reason. 

^'  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know,  sir,"  I  answered,  according  to 
a  phrase  which  has  always  been  my  favorite,  on  account  of 
its  general  truth:  moreover,  he  was  now  our  guest,  and 
had  right  to  be  treated  accordingly;  '^  I  am,  as  you  see, 
not  acquainted  with  the  ways  of  women,  except  my  mother 
and  sisters." 

'*  Except  not  even  them,  my  son,"  said  the  Counselor, 
now  having  finished  his  glass,  without  much  consulta- 
tion about  it;  "  if  you  once  understand  your  mother  and 
sisters — why,  you  understand  the  lot  of  them." 

He  made  a  twist  in  Jiis  cloud  of  smoke,  and  dashed  his 
finger  through  it,  so  that  I  could  not  follow  his  meaning, 
and  in  manners  liked  not  to  press  him. 

''Now  of  this  business,  John,"  he  said,  after  getting  to 
the  bottom  of  the  second  glass,  and  having  a  trifle  or  so  to 
eat,  and  praising  our  chimney-corner;  ''  taking  you  on  the 
whole,  you  know,  you  are  wonderfully  good  people;  and 
instead  of  giving  me  up  to  the  soldiers,  as  you  might  have 
done,  you  are  doing  your  best  to  make  me  drunk." 

*'Not  at  all,  sir,"  I  answered;  "not  at  all,  your  worship. 
Let  me  mix  you  another  glass.  We  rarely  have  a  great 
gentleman  by  the  side  of  our  embers  and  oven.  I  only 
beg  your  pardon,  sir,  that  my  sister  Annie  (who  knows 
where  to  find  all  the  good  pans  and  the  lard)  could  not 
wait  upon  you  this  evening;  and  I  fear  they  have  done  it 
with  dripping  instead,  and  in  a  pan  with  the  bottom 
burned.  *'But  old  Betty  quite  loses  her  head  sometimes, 
by  dint  of  overscoiding." 

''  My  son,"  replied  the  Counselor,  standing  across  the 
front  of  the  fire,  to  prove  his  strict  sobriety,  '*I  meant  to 
come  down  upon  you  to-night;  but  you  have  turned  the 
tables  upon  me.  Kot  through  any  skill  on  your  part,  nor 
through  any  paltry  weaknesses  as  to  love  (and  all  that  stuff, 
which  boys  and  girls  spin  tops  at,  or  knock  dolls'  noses 
together),  but  through  your  simple  way  of  taking  me  as  a 
man  to  be  believed,  combined  with  the  comfort  of  this 
place,  and  the  choice  tobacco  and  cordials.     I  have  not 


448  LOBNA  DOONB. 

enjoyed  an  evening  so  much,  God  bless  me,  if  I  know 
when!" 

''  Your  worship,"  said  I,  *'  makes  me  more  proud  than  I 
well  know  what  to  do  with.  Of  all  the  things  that  please 
and  lead  us  into  happy  sleep  at  night,  the  first  and  chiefest 
is  to  think  that  we  have  pleased  a  visitor. 

"  Then,  John,  thou  hast  deserved  good  sleep;  for  I  am 
not  pleased  easily.  But  although  our  family  is  not  so  high 
now  as  it  hath  been,  I  have  enough  of  the  gentleman  left 
to  be  pleased  when  good  people  try  me.  My  father.  Sir 
Ensor,  was  better  than  I  in  this  great  element  of  birth, 
and  my  son  Carver  is  far  worse.  jEtas  parentum,  what  is 
it,  my  boy?  I  hear  that  you  have  been  at  a  grammar- 
school." 

''  So  I  have,  your  worship,  and  at  a  very  good  one;  but 
I  only  got  far  enough  to  make  more  tail  than  head  of 
Latin." 

"Let  that  pass,"  said  the  Counselor;  "John,  thou  art 
all  the  wiser."  And  the  old  man  shook  his  hoary  locks,  as 
if  Latin  had  been  his  ruin.  I  looked  at  him  sadly,  and 
wondered  whether  it  might  have  so  ruined  me,  but  for  God's 
mercy  in  stopping  it. 


THE  WA  7  TO  MAKE  THE  CUE  AM  RISE,  449 


CHAPTER  LII. 

THE  WAY  TO  MAKE  THE  CREAM  RISE. 

That  night  the  reverend  Counselor,  not  being  in  such 
state  of  mind  as  ought  to  go  alone,  kindly  took  our  best 
old  bedstead,  carved  in  panels,  well  enough,  with  the 
woman  of  Samaria.  I  set  him  up  both  straight  and  heavy, 
so  that  he  need  but  close  both  eyes  and  keep  his  mouth 
just  open;  and  in  the  morning  he  was  thankful  for  all 
that  he  could  remember. 

I,  for  my  part,  scarcely  knew  whether  he  really  had 
begun  to  feel  good-will  toward  us,  and  to  see  that  nothing 
else  could  be  of  any  use  to  him,  or  whether  he  was  merely 
acting  so  as  to  deceive  us.  And  it  had  struck  me  several 
times  that  he  had  made  a  great  deal  more  of  the  spirit  he 
had  taken  than  the  quantity  would  warrant,  with  a  maii  so 
wise  and  solid.  Neither  did  I  quite  understand  a  little 
story  which  Lorna  told  me,  how  that  in  the  night  awaking, 
she  had  heard,  or  seemed  to  hear,  a  sound  of  feeling  in  her 
room,  as  if  there  had  been  some  one  groping  carefully 
among  the  things  within  her  drawers  or  wardrobe  closet. 
But  the  noise  had  ceased  at  once,  she  said,  when  she  sat 
up  in  bed  and  listened;  and  knowing  how  many  mice  we 
had,  she  took  courage  and  fell  asleep  again. 

After  breakfast  the  Counselor  (who  looked  no  whit  the 
worse  for  schnapps,  but  even  more  grave  and  venerable) 
followed  our  Annie  into  the  dairy  to  see  how  we  managed 
the  clotted  cream,  of  which  he  had  eaten  a  basinful.  And 
thereupon  they  talked  a  little;  and  Annie  thought  him  a 
fine  old  gentleman,  and  a  very  just  one;  for  he  had  nobly 
condemned  the  people  who  spoke  against  Tom  Faggus. 

*'  Your  honor  must  plainly  understand,''  said  Annie, 
being  now  alone  with  him,  and  spreading  out  her  light, 
quick  hands  over  the  pans  like  butterflies,  '*that  they  are 
brought  in  here  to  cool,  after  being  set  in  the  basin-holes. 


450  LORNA  DOONB. 

with  the  wood-ash  under  them,  which  I  showed  you  in  the 
back  kitchen.  And  they  must  have  very  little  heat,  not 
enough  to  simmer  even;  iaot  only  just  to  make  the  bubbles 
rise,  and  the  scum  upon  the  top  set  thick:  and  after  that 
it  clots  as  firm — oh,  as  firm  as  my  two  hands  be." 

"  Have  you  ever  heard,"  asked  the  Counselor,  who  en- 
joyed this  talk  with  Annie,  "that  if  you  pass  across  the 
top,  without  breaking  tlie  surface,  a  string  of  beads,  or 
polished  glass,  or  anything  of  that  kind,  the  cream  will  set 
three  times  as  solid,  and  in  thrice  the  quantity?" 

'^No,  sir;  I  have  never  heard  that,"  said  Annie,  staring 
with  all  her  simple  eyes;  "  what  a  thing  it  is  to  read  books, 
and  grow  learned!  But  it  is  very  easy  to  try  it;  I  will  get 
my  coral  necklace;  it  will  not  be  witchcraft,  will  it,  sir?" 

"  Certainly  not,"  the  old  man  replied;  "  I  will  make  the 
experiment  myself;  and  you  may  trust  me  not  to  be  hurt, 
my  dear.  But  coral  will  not  do,  my  child,  neither  will 
anything  colored.  The  beads  must  be  of  plain  common 
glass;  but  the  brighter  they  are  the  better." 

"  Then  I  know  the  very  thing,"  cried  Annie;  "as  bright 
as  bright  can  be,  and  without  any  color  in  it,  except  in  the 
sun  or  candle-light.  Dearest  Lorna  has  the  very  thing — a 
necklace  of  some  old  glass  beads,  or  I  think  they  called 
them  jewels;  she  will  be  too  glad  to  lend  it  to  us.  I  will 
go  for  it  in  a  moment. 

"  My  dear,  it  cannot  be  half  so  bright  as  your  own  pretty 
eyes.  But  remember  one  thing,  Annie,  you  must  not  say 
what  it  is  for:  or  even  that  I  am  going  to  use  it,  or  any- 
thing at  all  about  it;  else  the  charm  will  be  broken.  Bring 
it  here  without  a  word  if  you  know  where  she  keeps  it." 

"To  be  sure  I  do,"  she  answered;  "John  used  to  keep 
it  for  her.  But  she  took  it  away  from  him  last  week,  and 
she  wore  it  when — I  mean  when  somebody  was  here;  and 
he  said  it  was  very  valuable,  and  spoke  with  great  learning 
about  it,  and  called  it  by  some  particular  name,  which  I 
forget  at  this  moment.  But  valuable  or  not,  we  cannot 
hurt  it,  can  we,  sir,  by  passing  it  over  the  cream-pan?" 

"Hurt  it!"  cried  the  Counselor:  ^*nay,  we  shall  do  it 
good,  my  dear.  It  will  help  to  raise  the  cream:  and  you 
may  take  my  word  for  it,  young  maiden,  none  can  do  good 
in  this  world  without  in  turn  receiving  it."  Pronouncing 
this  great  sentiment,  he  looked  so  grand  and  benevolent, 


TEE  WAT  TO  MAKE  THE  CREAM  RISE.  451 

that  Annie  (as  she  said  afterward)  could  scarce  forbear 
from  kissing  nim,  yet  feared  to  take  the  liberty.  Therefore, 
she  only  ran  away  to  fetch  my  Lorna's  necklace. 

Now  as  luck  would  have  it — whether  good  luck  or  other- 
wise, you  must  not  judge  too  hastily — my  darling  had  taken  it 
into  her  head,  only  a  day  or  two  before,  that  I  was  far  too ; 
valuable  to  be  trusted  with  her  necklace.  Now  that  she 
had  some  idea  of  its  price  and  quality,  she  had  begun  to  fear 
that  some  one,  perhaps  even  Squire  Faggus  (in  whom  her 
faith  was  illiberal)  might  form  designs  against  my  health 
to  win  the  bawble  from  me.  So,  with  many  pretty  coax- 
ings, she  had  led  me  to  give  it  up;  which,  except  for  her 
own  sake,  I  was  glad  enough  to  do,  misliking  a  charge  of 
such  importance. 

Therefore  Annie  found  it  sparkling  in  the  little  secret 
hole  near  the  head  of  Lorna's  bed,  which  she  herself  had 
recommended  for  its  safer  custody;  and  without  a  word  to 
any  one  she  brought  it  down,  and  danced  it  in  the  air 
before  the  Counselor,  for  him  to  admire  its  lustre. 

''  Oh,  that  old  thing  I"  said  the  gentleman,  in  a  tone  of 
some  contempt;  ''I  remember  that  old  thing  well  enough. 
However,  for  want  of  a  better,  no  doubt  it  will  answer  our 
purpose.  Three  times  three,  I  pass  it  over.  Crinkleum, 
crankum,  grass  and  clover!  What  are  you  feared  of,  you 
silly  child?" 

**Good  sir,  it  is  perfect  witchcraft!  I  am  sure  of  that, 
because  it  rhymes.  Oh,  what  would  mother  say  to  me? 
Shall  I  ever  go  to  heaven  again?  Oh,  I  see  the  cream 
already!" 

"To  be  sure  you  do;  but  you  must  not  look,  or  the 
whole  charm  will  be  broken,  and  the  devil  will  fly  away 
with  the  pan,  and  drown  every  cow  you  have  got  in  it." 

'^  Oh,  sir,  it  is  too  horrible.  How  could  you  lead  me  to 
such  a  sin?    Away  with  thee,  witch  of  Endor!" 

For  the  door  began  to  creak,  and  a  broom  appeared 
suddenly  in  the  opening,  with  our  Betty,  no  doubt,  behind 
it.  But  Annie,  in  the  greatest  terror,  slammed  the  door, 
and  bolted  it,  and  then  turned  again  to  the  Counselor; 
yet,  looking  at  his  face,  had  not  the  courage  to  reproach 
him.  For  his  eyes  rolled  like  two  blazing  barrels,  and  his 
white  shagged  brows  were  knit  across  them,  and  his  fore- 
head scowled  in  black  furrows,  so  that  Annie  said  that  if 


452  LORNA  BOONE. 

she  ever  saw  the  devil,  she  saw  him  then,  and  no  mistake. 
Whether  the  old  man  wished  to  scare  her,  or  whether  he 
was  trying  not  to  langh,  is  more  than  I  can  tell  you. 

"Now,"'  he  said,  in  a  deep,  stern  whisper,  "not  a  word 
of  this  to  living  soul;  neither  must  you,  nor  any  other, 
enter  this  place  for  three  hours  at  least.  By  that  time  the 
charm  will  have  done  its  work;  the  pan  will  be  cream  to 
the  bottom;  and  yon  will  bless  me  for  a  secret  which  will 
make  your  fortune.  Put  the  bauble  under  this  pannikin, 
which  none  must  lift  for  a  day  and  a  night.  Have  no 
fear,  my  simple  wench;  not  a  breath  of  harm  shall  come 
to  you,  if  you  obey  my  orders. " 

''  Oh,  that  I  will,  sir,  that  I  will;  if  you  only  tell  me 
what  to  do.'' 

"  Go  to  your  room,  without  so  much  as  a  single  word  to 
any  one.  Bolt  yourself  in,  and  for  three  hours  now  read 
the  Lord's  Prayer  backward.'* 

Poor  Annie  was  only  too  glad  to  escape  upon  these  con- 
ditions; and  the  Counselor  kissed  her  upon  the  forehead, 
and  told  her  not  to  make  her  eyes  red,  because  they  were 
much  too  sweet  and  pretty.  She  dropped  them  at  this, 
with  a  sob  and  a  courtesy,  and  ran  away  to  her  bedroom; 
but  as  for  reading  the  Lord's  Prayer  backward,  that  was 
much  beyond  her;  and  she  had  not  done  three  words  quite 
right  before  the  three  hours  expired. 

Meanwhile  the  Counselor  was  gone.  He  bade  our 
mother  adieu  with  so  much  dignity  of  bearing,  and  such 
warmth  of  gratitude,  and  the  high-bred  courtesy  of  the 
old  school  (now  fast  disappearing),  that  when  he  was  gone, 
dear  mother  fell  back  on  the  chair  which  he  had  used  last 
nigiit,  as  if  it  would  teach  her  the  graces.  And  for  more 
than  an  hour  she  made  believe  not  to  know  what  there  was 
for  dinner. 

"  Oh,  the  wickedness  of  the  world  !  Oh,  the  lies  that 
are  told  of  people — or,  rather,  I  mean  the  falsehoods — be- 
cause a  man  is  better  born  and  has  better  manners.  Why, 
Lorna,  how  is  it  that  you  never  speak  about  your  charming 
uncle?  Did  you  notice,  Lizzie,  how  his  silver  hair  was 
waving  upon  his  velvet  collar,  and  how  white  his  hands 
were,  and  every  nail  like  an  acorn;  only  pink  like  shell- 
fish, or  at  least  like  shells?  And  the  way  he  bowed,  and 
dropped  his  eyes,  from  his  pure  respect  for  me.    And  then. 


THE  WAY  TO  MAKE  THE  CREAM  RISE.  453 

that  he  would  not  even  speak,  on  account  of  his  emotion, 
but  pressed  my  hand  in  silence.  Oh,  Lizzie,  you  have 
read  me  beautiful  things  about  Sir  Gallyhead  and  the  rest, 
but  nothing  to  equal  Sir  Counselor." 

'^  You  had  better  marry  him,  madam,"  said  I,  coming 
in  very  sternly;  though  I  knew  I  ought  not  to  say  it;  '^  he 
can  repay  your  adoration.  He  has  stolen  a  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds." 

"John,"  cried  my  mother,  "you  are  mad!"  And  yet 
she  turned  as  pale  as  death;  for  women  are  so  quick  at 
turning;  and  she  inkled  what  it  was. 

"Of  course  I  am,  mother;  mad  about  the  marvels  of 
Sir  Galahad.  He  has  gone  off  with  my  Lorna's  necklace. 
Fifty  farms  like  ours  can  never  make  it  good  to  Lorna." 

Hereupon  ensued  grim  silence.  Mother  looked  at 
Lizzie's  face,  for  she  could  not  look  at  me;  and  Lizzie 
looked  at  me,  to  know;  and  as  for  me,  I  could  have 
stamped  almost  on  the  heart  of  any  one.  It  was  not  the 
value  of  the  necklace — I  am  not  so  low  a  hound  as  that — 
nor  was  it  even  tlie  d — d  folly  shown  by  every  one  of  us — 
it  was  the  thought  of  Lorna's  sorrow  for  her  ancient  play- 
thing; and  even  more,  my  fury  at  the  breach  of  hospi- 
tality. 

But  Lorna  came  up  to  me  softly,  as  a  woman  should  al- 
ways come,  and  she  laid  one  hand  upon  my  shoulder,  and 
she  only  looked  at  me.  She  even  seemed  to  fear  to  look, 
and  dropped  her  eyes,  and  sighed  at  me.  Without  a  word 
I  knew  by  that  how  I  must  have  looked  like  Satan;  and 
the  evil  spirit  left  my  heart  when  she  had  made  me  think 
of  it. 

"Darling  John,  did  you  want  me  to  think  that  you 
cared  for  my  money  more  than  for  me?" 

I  led  her  away  from  the  rest  of  them,  being  desirous  of 
explaining  things,  when  I  saw  the  depth  of  her  nature 
opened,  like  an  everlasting  well,  to  me.  But  she  would 
not  let  me  say  a  word,  or  do  anything  by  ourselves,  as  it 
were;  she  said,  "  Your  duty  is  to  your  mother,  this  blow  is 
on  her,  and  not  on  me." 

I  saw  that  she  was  right;  though  how  she  knew  it  is  be- 
yond me;  and  I  asked  her  just  to  go  in  front  and  bring 
my  mother  round  a  little.  For  I  must  let  my  passion 
pass;  it  may  drop  its  weapons  quickly,  but  it  can  not  come 
and  go  before  a  man  has  time  to  think. 


454  LORNA  DOONE, 

Then  Lorna  went  up  to  my  mother,  who  was  still  in 
the  chair  of  elegance,  and  she  took  her  by  both  hands,  and 
said: 

*'  Dearest  mother,  I  shall  fret  so  if  I  see  you  fretting. 
And  to  fret  will  kill  me,  mother.  They  have  always  told 
me  so." 

Poor  mother  bent  on  Lorna's  shoulder,  without  thought 
of  attitude,  and  laid  her  cheek  on  Lorna's  breast,  and 
sobbed  till  Lizzie  was  jealous,  and  came  with  two  pocket- 
handkerchiefs.  As  for  me,  my  heart  was  lighter  (if  they 
would  only  dry  their  eyes,  and  come  round  by  dinner- 
time) than  it  had  been  since  the  day  on  which  Tom  Fag- 
gus  discovered  the  value  of  that  blessed  and  cursed  neck- 
lace. None  could  say  that  I  wanted  Lorna  for  her  money 
now.  And  perhaps  the  Doones  would  let  me  have  her, 
now  that  her  property  was  gone. 

But  who  shall  tell  of  Annie's  grief?  The  poor  little 
thing  would  have  staked  her  life  upon  finding  the  trinket, 
in  all  its  beauty,  lying  under  the  pannikin.  She  proudly 
challenged  me  to  lift  it — which  I  had  done  long  ere  that,  of 
course — if  only  I  would  take  the  risk  of  the  spell  for  in- 
credulity. I  told  her  not  to  talk  of  spells  until  she  could 
spell  a  word  backward,  and  then  to  look  into  the  pan 
where  the  charmed  cream  should  be.  She  would  not  ac- 
knowledge that  the  cream  was  the  same  as  all  the  rest  was; 
and  indeed  it  was  not  quite  the  same,  for  the  points  of 
poor  Lorna's  diamonds  had  made  a  few  star-rays  across 
the  rich  firm  crust  of  yellow. 

But  when  we  raised  the  pannikin,  and  there  was  nothing 
under  it,  poor  Annie  fell  against  the  wall,  which  had  been 
whitened  lately,  and  her  face  put  all  the  white  to  scorn. 
My  love,  who  was  as  fond  of  her  as  if  she  had  known  her 
for  fifty  years,  hereupon  ran  up  and  caught  her,  and 
abused  all  diamonds.  I  will  dwell  no  more  upon  Annie's 
grief,  because  we  felt  it  all  so  much.  But  I  could  not  help 
telling  her,  if  she  wanted  a  witch,  to  seek  good  Mother 
Melldrum,  a  legitimate  performer. 

That  same  night  Master  Jeremy  Stickles  (of  whose 
absence  the  Counselor  must  have  known)  came  back,  with 
all  equipment  ready  for  the  grand  attack.  Now  the 
Doones  knew,  quite  as  well  as  we  did,  that  this  attack  was 
threatening;  and  that  but  for  the  wonderful  weather  it 


THE  WA  Y  TO  MAKE  THE  CREAM  RISE.  455 

would  have  been  made  long  ago.  Therefore  we,  or  at 
least  our  people  (for  I  was  doubtful  about  going),  were 
sure  to  meet  with  a  good  resistance,  and  due  preparation. 

It  was  very  strange  to  hear  and  see,  and  quite  impossible 
to  account  for,  that  now  some  hundreds  of  country  people 
(\vho  feared  to  whisper  so  much  as  a  word  against  the 
Doones  a  year  ago,  and  would  sooner  have  thought  of 
attacking  a  church  in  service-time  than  Glen  Doone) 
sharpened  their  old  cutlasses,  and  laid  pitchforks  on  the 
grindstone,  and  bragged  at  every  village  cross,  as  if  each 
would  kill  ten  Doones  himself,  neither  care  to  wipe  his 
hands  afterward.  And  this  fierce  bravery  and  tall  con- 
tempt had  been  growing  ever  since  the  news  of  the 
attack  upon  our  premises  had  taken  good  people  by  sur- 
prise; at  least  as  concerned  the  issue. 

Jeremy  Stickles  laughed  heartily  about  Annie's  new 
manner  of  charming  the  cream;  but  he  looked  very  grave 
at  the  loss  of  the  jewels,  so  soon  as  he  knew  their  value. 

**Myson,"  he  exclaimed,  "this  is  very  heavT.  It  will 
go  ill  with  all  of  you  to  make  good  this  loss,  as  I  fear  that 
you  will  have  to  do." 

"  What!"  cried  I,  with  my  blood  running  cold.  "  We 
make  good  the  loss.  Master  Stickles  I  Every  farthing  we 
have  in  the  world,  and  the  labor  of  our  lives  to  boot,  will 
never  make  good  the  tenth  of  it." 

"  It  would  cut  me  to  the  heart,"  he  answered,  laying 
his  hand  on  mine,  "  to  hear  of  such  a  deadly  blow  to 
you  and  your  good  mother.  And  this  farm;  how  long, 
John,  has  it  been  in  your  family?" 

"For  at  least  six  hundred  years,"  I  said,  with  a  foolish 
pride  that  was  only  too  like  to  end  in  groans;  "  and  some 
people  say,  by  a  royal  grant,  in  the  time  of  the  great  King 
Alfred.  At  any  rate,  a  Ridd  was  with  him  throughout  all 
his  hiding-time.  We  have  always  held  by  the  King  and 
crown;  surely  none  will  turn  us*^out,  unless  we  are  guilty 
of  treason?" 

''My  son,"  replied  Jeremy,  very  gently,  so  that  I  could 
love  him  for  it;  "not  a  word  to  your  good  mother  of  this 
unlucky  matter.  Keep  it  to  yourself,  my  boy,  and  try  to 
think  but  little  of  it.  After  all  I  may  be  wrong;  at  any 
rate,  least  said  best  mended." 

"  But  Jeremy,  dear  Jeremy,  how  can  I  bear  to  leave  it 


45«  LORNA  DOONE, 

so?  Do  you  suppose  that  I  can  sleep,  and  eat  my  food, 
and  go  about,  and  look  at  other  people,  as  if  nothing  at  all 
had  happened?  And  all  the  time  have  it  on  my  mind 
that  not  an  acre  of  all  the  land,  nor  even  our  old  sheep-dog, 
belongs  to  us,  of  right,  at  all!  It  is  more  than  I  can  do, 
Jeremy.     Let  me  talk,  and  know  the  worst  of  \i" 

"  Very  well,'' replied  Master  Stickles,  seeing  that  both 
the  doors  were  closed;  "  I  thought  that  nothing  could  move 
you  John,  or  I  never  would  have  told  you.  Likely  enough  I 
am  quite  wrong;  and  God  send  that  I  be  so.  But  what  I 
guessed  at  some  time  back  seems  more  than  a  guess,  now 
that  you  have  told  me  about  these  wondrous  jewels.  Now 
will  you  keep,  as  close  as  death,  every  word  I  tell  you?" 

**  By  the  honor  of  a  man,  I  will.  Until  you  yourself 
release  me." 

**  That  is  quite  enough,  John.  From  you  I  want  no 
oath;  which,  according  to  my  experience,  tempts  a  bad 
man  to  lie  the  more,  by  making  it  more  important.  I  know 
you  now  too  well  to  swear  you,  though  1  have  the  power. 
Now,  my  lad,  what  I  have  to  say  will  scare  your  mind  in 
one  way,  and  ease  it  in  another.  I  think  that  you  have 
been  hard  pressed — I  can  read  you  like  a  book,  John— by 
something  which  that  old  villain  said,  before  he  stole  the 
necklace.  You  have  tried  not  to  dwell  upon  it;  you  have 
even  tried  to  make  light  of  it  for  the  sake  of  the  women: 
but  on  the  whole  it  has  grieved  you  more  than  even  this 
dastard  robbery." 

'*  It  would  have  done  so,  Jeremy  Stickles,  if  I  could 
once  have  believed  it.  And  even  without  much  belief,  it 
is  so  against  our  manners,  that  it  makes  me  miserable. 
Only  think  of  loving  Lorna,  only  think  of  kissing  her; 
and  then  remembering  that  her  father  had  destroyed  the 
life  of  mine!" 

"Only  think,"  said  Master  Stickles,  imitating  my  very 
voice,  **  of  Lorna  loving  you,  John,  of  Lorna  kissing  you, 
John;  and  all  the  while  saying  to  herself,  *  This  man's 
father  murdered  mine.'  Now  look  at  it  in  Lorna's  way, 
as  well  as  in  your  own  way.     How  one-sided  all  men  are!" 

**I  may  look  at  it  in  fifty  ways,  and  yet  no  good  will 
come  of  it.  Jeremy,  I  confess  to  you  that  I  tried  to  make 
the  best  of  it;  partly  to  baffle  the  Counselor,  and  partly  be- 
cause my  darling  needed  my  help,  and  bore  it  so,  and  be- 


THE  WA  Y  TO  MAKE  THE  CREAM  RISK  457 

haved  to  me  so  nobly.  But  to  you  in  secret  I  am  not 
ashamed  to  say  that  a  woman  may  look  over  this  easier 
than  a  man  may/^ 

"  Because  her  nature  is  larger,  my  son,  when  she  truly 
loves,  although  her  mind  be  smaller.  Now,  if  I  can  ease 
you  from  this  secret  burden,  will  you  bear,  with  strength 
and  courage,  the  other  which  I  plant  on  you?'' 

**I  will  do  my  best,"  said  I. 

''No  man  can  do  more/'  said  he;  and  so  began  his 
story. 


458  LOBNA  DOONB, 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

JEREMY  FINDS  OUT  SOMETHING. 

"You  KNOW  my  son,"  said  Jeremy  Stickles,  with  a  gooa 
pull  at  his  pipe,  because  he  was  going  to  talk  so  much,  and 
putting  his  legs  well  along  in  the  settle;  **it  has  been  my 
duty  for  a  wearier  time  than  I  care  to  think  of  (and  which 
would  have  been  unbearable  except  for  your  great  kind- 
ness), to  search  this  neighborhood  narrowly,  and  learn 
every  thing  about  every  body.  Now  the  neighborhood 
itself  is  queer,  and  people  have  different  ways  of  thinking 
from  what  we  are  used  to  in  London.  For  instance  now, 
among  your  folk,  when  any  piece  of  news  is  told,  or  any 
man's  conduct  spoken  of,  the  very  first  question  that  arises 
in  your  minds  is  this:  'Was  this  action  kind  and  good?' 
Long  after  that,  you  say  to  yourselves,  'Does  the  law 
enjoin  or  forbid  this  thing?'  Now  here  is  your  funda- 
mental error;  for  among  all  truly  civilized  people  the  fore- 
most of  all  questions  is,  'How  stands  the  law  herein?' 
And  if  the  law  approve,  no  need  for  any  further  question- 
ing. That  this  is  so,  you  may  take  my  word;  for  I  know 
the  law  pretty  thoroughly. 

"  Very  well;  I  need  not  say  any  more  about  that,  for  I 
have  shown  that  you  are  all  quite  wrong.  I  only  speak  of 
this  savage  tendency,  because  it  explains  so  many  things 
which  have  puzzled  me  among  you,  and  most  of  all  your 
kindness  to  men  whom  you  never  saw  before;  which  is  an 
utterly  illegal  thing.  It  also  explains  your  toleration  of 
these  outlaw  Doones  so  long.  If  your  views  of  law  had 
been  correct,  and  law  an  element  of  your  lives,  these  rob- 
bers could  never  have  been  indulged  for  so  many  years 
among  you,  but  you  must  have  abated  the  nuisance." 

'*  Now,  Stickles,"  I  cried,  *'  this  is  too  bad!"  he  was  de- 
livering himself  so  grandly.  "  Why  you  yourself  have  been 
among  us,  as  the  balance,  and  sceptre,  and  sword  of  law. 


JEREMY  EWDS  0  VT  SOMETHING.  459 

for  nigh  upon  a  twelvemonth;  and  have  you  abated  the 
nuisance,  or  even  cared  to  do  it,  until  they  began  to  shoot 
at  you?" 

"My  son/'  he  replied,  ''your  argument  is  quite  beside 
the  purpose,  and  only  tends  to  prove  more  clearly  that 
which  I  have  said  of  you.  However,  if  you  wish  to  hear 
my  story,  no  more  interruptions.  I  may  not  have  a  chance 
to  tell  you,  perhaps  for  weeks,  or  I  know  not  when,  if  once 
those  yellows  and  reds  arrive,  and  be  blessed  to  them,  the 
lubbers  I  Well,  it  may  be  six  months  ago,  or  it  may  be 
seven,  at  any  rate  a  good  while  before  that  cursed  frost 
began,  the  mere  name  of  which  sends  a  shiver  down  every 
bone  of  my  body,  when  I  was  riding  one  afternoon  from 
Dulverton  to  Watchett " 

*•' Dulverton  to  Watchett?"  I  cried.  ''Now  what  does 
that  remind  me  of  ?    I  am  sure,  I  remember  something *' 

"  Remember  this,  John,  if  anything — that  another  word 
from  thee,  and  thou  hast  no  more  of  mine.  Well,  I  was  a 
little  weary  perhaps,  having  been  plagued  at  Dulverton 
with  the  grossness  of  the  people.  For  they  would  tell  me 
nothing  at  all  about  their  fellow-townsman,  your  worthy 
Uncle  Huckaback,  except  that  he  was  a  God-fearing  man, 
and  they  only  wished  I  was  like  him.  I  blessed  myself  for 
a  stupid  fool,  in  thinking  to  have  pumped  them;  for  by 
this  time  I  might  have  known  that,  through  your  Western 
homeliness,  every  man  in  his  own  country  is  something 
more  than  a  prophet.  And  I  felt,  of  course,  that  I  had 
done  more  harm  than  good  by  questioning;  inasmuch  as 
every  soul  in  the  place  would  run  straightway  and  inform 
him  that  the  King's  man  from  the  other  side  of  the  forest 
had  been  sifting  out  his  ways  and  works.'' 

"Ah!"  I  cried,  for  I  could  not  help  it;  "you  begin  to 
understand  at  last  that  we  are  not  quite  such  a  set  of  oafs 
as  you  at  first  believed  us." 

"I  was  riding  on  from  Dulverton,"  he  resumed  with 
great  severity,  yet  threatening  me  no  more,  which  checked 
me  more  than  fifty  threats,  "  and  it  was  late  in  the  after- 
noon, and  I  was  growing  weary.  The  road  (if  road  it 
could  be  called)  turned  suddenly  down  from  the  higher 
land  to  the  very  brink  of  the  sea;  and  rounding  a  little  jut 
of  cliff,  I  met  the  roar  of  the  breakers.  My  horse  was 
scared,  and  leaped  aside;  for  a  northerly  wind  was  piping, 


460  LORN  A  DOONE. 

and  driving  hunks  of  foam  across,  as  children  scatter  snow- 
balls. But  he  only  sunk  to  his  fetlocks  in  the  dry  sand, 
piled  with  pop-weed;  and  I  tried  to  make  him  face  the 
waves,  and  then  I  looked  about  me. 

"  Watchett  town  was  not  to  be  seen,  on  account  of  a 
little  foreland,  a  mile  or  more  upon  my  course,  and  stand- 
ing to  the  right  of  me.  There  was  room  enough  below  the 
cliffs  (which  are  nothing  there  to  yours,  John)  for  horse 
and  man  to  get  along,  although  the  tide  was  running  high 
with  a  northerly  gale  to  back  it.  But  close  at  hand  and  in 
the  corner,  drawn  above  the  yellow  sands  and  long  eye- 
brows of  wrack-weed,  as  snug  a  little  house  blinked  on  me 
as  ever  I  saw,  or  wished  to  see. 

"You  know  that  I  am  not  luxurious,  neither  in  any  way 
given  to  the  common  lusts  of  the  flesh,  John.  My  father 
never  allowed  his  hair  to  grow  a  fourth  part  of  an  inch  in 
length,  and  he  was  a  thoroughly  godly  man;  and  I  try  to 
follow  in  his  footsteps,  whenever  I  think  about  it.  Never- 
theless, I  do  assure  you  that  my  view  of  tliat  little  house, 
and  the  way  the  lights  were  twinkling,  so  different  from  the 
cold  and  darkness  of  the  rolling  sea,  moved  the  ancient 
Adam  in  me,  if  he  could  be  found  to  move.  I  love  not  a 
house  with  too  many  windows;  being  out  of  house  and 
doors  some  three-quarters  of  my  time,  when  I  get  inside  a 
house  I  like  to  feel  the  difference.  Air  and  light  are  good 
for  people  who  have  any  lack  of  them;  and  if  a  man  once 
talks  about  them,  'tis  enough  to  prove  his  need  of  them. 
But,  as  you  well  know,  John  Ridd,  the  horse  who  has  been 
at  work  all  day,  with  the  sunshine  on  his  eyes,  sleeps  better 
in  dark  stable,  and  needs  no  moon  to  help  him. 

"  Seeing,  therefore,  that  this  same  inn  had  four  windows, 
and  no  more,  I  thought  to  myself  how  snug  it  was,  and 
how  beautifully  I  could  sleep  there.  And  so  I  made  the 
old  horse  draw  hand,  which  he  was  only  too  glad  to  do,  and 
we  clomb  above  the  springtide  mark,  and  over  a  little  piece 
of  turf,  and  struck  the  door  of  the  hostelry.  Someone 
came  and  peeped  at  me  through  the  lattice  overhead,  which 
was  full  of  buUs'-eyes;  and  then  the  bolt  was  drawn  back, 
and  a  woman  met  me  very  courteously.  A  dark  and  foreign- 
looking  woman,  very  hot  of  blood,  I  doubt,  but  not  alto- 
gether a  bad  one.  And  she  waited  for  me  to  be  first  to 
speak,  which  an  Englishwoman  would  not  have  done. 


JEREMY  FINDS  OUT  SOMETHING.  461 

"  '  Can  I  rest  here  for  the  night?"  I  asked,  with  a  lift  of 
my  hat  to  her;  for  she  was  no  provincial  dame,  who  would 
stare  at  me  for  the  courtesy;  *my  horse  is  weary  from  the 
sloughs,  and  myself  but  little  better:  besides  that,  we  both 
are  famished/ 

•'*  Yes,  sir,  you  can  rest  and  welcome.  But  of  food,  I 
fear,  there  is  but  little,  unless  of  the  common  order.  Our 
fishers  would  have  drawn  the  nets,  but  the  waves  were  vio- 
lent. However,  we  have — what  you  call  it?  I  never  can  re- 
member, it  is  so  hard  to  say — the  flesh  of  the  hog  salted.' 

*^' Bacon!'  said  I;  'what  can  be  better?  And  half  a 
dozen  eggs  with  it,  and  a  quart  of  fresh-drawn  ale.  You 
make  me  rage  with  hunger,  madam.  Is  it  cruelty,  or  hos- 
pitality?" 

"'Ah,  good!'  she  replied,  with  a  merry  smile,  full  of 
Southern  sunshine;  'you  are  not  of  the  men  round  here: 
you  can  think,  and  you  can  laugh!' 

'"And  most  of  all,  I  can  eat,  good  madam.  In  that 
way  I  shall  astonish  you,  even  more  than  by  my  intel- 
lect.' 

"  She  laughed  aloud,  and  swung  her  shoulders,  as  your 
natives  cannot  do;  and  then  she  called  a  little  maid  to  lead 
my  horse  to  stable.  However,  I  preferred  to  see  that 
matter  done  myself,  and  told  her  to  send  the  little  maid  for 
the  frying-pan  and  the  egg-box. 

"  Whether  it  were  my  natural  wit  and  elegance  of 
manner,  or  whether  it  were  my  London  freedom  and 
knowledge  of  the  world,  or  (which  is  perhaps  the  most 
probable,  because  the  least  pleasing  supposition)  my  ready 
and  permanent  appetite,  and  appreciation  of  garlic — I  leave 
you  to  decide,  John:  but  perhaps  all  three  combined  to 
recommend  me  to  the  graces  of  my  charming  hostess. 
When  I  say  'charming,'  I  mean  of  course  by  mannei'S 
and  by  intelligence,  and  most  of  all  by  cooking;  for  as  re- 
gards external  charms  (most  fleeting  and  fallacious),  hers 
had  ceased  to  cause  distress  for  I  cannot  say  how  many 
years.  She  said  that  it  was  the  climate — for  even  upon 
that  subject  she  requested  my  opinion — and  I  answered, 
'  If  there  be  a  change,  let  madam  blame  the  seasons.' 

"  However,  not  to  dwell  too  much  upon  our  little  pleas- 
antries (for  I  always  get  on  with  these  foreign  women 
better  than  with  your  Molls  and  Pegs),  I  became,  not  in- 


4B2  LORNA  D60NR 

quisitive,  but  reasonably  desirous  to  know  by  what  strange 
hap  or  hazard  a  clever  and  a  handsome  woman,  as  she 
must  have  been  some  day,  a  woman,  moreover,  with  great 
contempt  for  the  rustic  minds  around  her,  could  have 
settled  here  in  this  lonely  inn,  with  only  the  waves  for 
company,  and  a  boorish  husband  who  slaved  all  day  in 
turning  a  potter's  wheel  at  Watchett.  And  what  was 
the  meaning  of  the  emblem  set  above  her  door-way — a 
very  unattractive  cat  sitting  in  a  ruined  tree? 

**  However,  I  had  not  very  long  to  strain  my  curiosity; 
for  when  she  found  out  who  1  was,  and  how  I  held  the 
King's  commission,  and  might  be  called  an  officer,  her 
desire  to  tell  me  all  was  more  than  equal  to  mine  of 
hearing  it.  Many  and  many  a  day  she  had  longed  for 
some  one  both  skillful  and  trustworthy,  most  of  all  for 
some  one  bearing  warrant  from  a  court  of  justice.  But 
the  magistrates  of  the  neighborhood  would  have  nothing 
to  say  to  her,  declaring  that  she  was  a  crack-brained 
woman,  and  a  wicked,  and  even  a  foreign  one. 

"  With  many  grimaces  she  assured  me  that  never  by 
her  own  free-will  would  she  have  lived  so  many  years  in 
that  hateful  country,  where  the  sky  for  half  the  year 
was  fog,  and  rain  for  nearly  the  other  half.  It  was  so 
the  very  night  when  first  her  evil  fortune  brought  her 
there;  and  so,  no  doubt,  it  would  be  long  after  it  had 
killed  her.  But  if  1  wished  to  know  the  reason  of  her 
being  there,  she  would  tell  me  in  few  words,  which  I 
will  repeat  as  briefly. 

"  By  birth  she  was  an  Italian,  from  the  mountains  of 
Apulia,  who  had  gone  to  Rome  to  seek  her  fortunes,  after 
being  badly  treated  in  some  love  affair.  Her  Chris- 
tian name  was  Benita;  as  for  her  surname,  that  could 
make  no  difference  to  any  one.  Being  a  quick  and  active 
girl,  and  resolved  to  work  down  her  troubles,  she  found 
employment  in  a  large  hotel;  and,  rising  gradually,  began 
to  send  money  to  her  parents.  And  here  she  might  have 
thriven  well,  and  married  well  under  sunny  skies,  and  been 
a  happy  woman,  but  that  some  black  day  sent  thither  a 
rich  and  noble  English  family  eager  to  behold  the  Pope. 
It  was  not,  however,  their  fervent  longing  for  the  Holy 
Father  which  had  brought  tliem  to  St.  Peter's  roof,  but 
rather  their  own  bad  luck  in  making  their  home  too  hot  to 


JEREM  Y  t^mDS  0  UT  SOMFTBINQ.  463 

hold  them.  For  although  iii  the  main  good  Catholics,  and 
pleasant  receivers  of  anything,  one  of  their  number  had 
given  offense  by  the  folly  of  trying  to  think  for  himself. 
Some  bitter  feud  had  been  among  them,  Benita  knew  not 
how  it  was;  and  the  sister  of  the  nobleman,  who  had  died 
quite  lately,  was  married  to  the  rival  claimant,  whom  they 
all  detested.  It  was  something  about  dividing  land; 
Benita  knew  not  what  it  was. 

*'  But  this  Benita  did  know,  that  they  were  all  great 
people,  and  rich,  and  very  liberal;  so  that  when  they 
offered  to  take  her,  to  attend  to  the  children,  and  to  speak 
the  language  for  them,  and  to  comfort  the  lady,  she  was 
only  too  glad  to  go,  little  foreseeing  the  end  of  it.  More- 
over, she  loved  the  children  so,  from  their  pretty  ways  and 
that,  and  the  things  they  gave  her,  and  the  stvle  of  their 
dresses,  that  it  would  have  broken  her  heart  almost  never 
to  see  the  dears  again. 

'*  And  so,  in  a  very  evil  hour,  she  accepted  the  service 
of  the  noble  Englishman,  and  sent  her  father  an  old  shoe 
filled  to  the  tongue  with  money,  and  trusted  herself  to  for- 
tune. But  even  before  she  went  she  knew  that  it  could 
not  turn  out  well;  for  the  laurel  leaf  which  she  threw  on 
the  fire  would  not  crackle  even  once,  and  the  horn  of  the 
goat  came  wrong  in  the  twist,  and  the  heel  of  her  foot  was 
shining.  This  made  her  sigh  at  the  starting  time;  and 
after  that  what  could  you  hope  for? 

"  However,  at  first  all  things  went  well.  My  lord  was 
as  gay  as  gay  could  be,  and  never  would  come  inside  the 
carriage  when  a  decent  horse  could  be  got  to  ride.  He 
would  gallop  in  front  at  a  reckless  pace,  without  a  weapon 
of  any  kind,  delighted  with  the  pure  blue  air,  and  throw- 
ing his  heart  around  him.  Benita  had  never  seen  any 
man  so  admirable,  and  so  childish.  As  innocent  as  an 
infant;  and  not  only  contented,  but  noisily  happy  with 
anything.  Only  other  people  must  share  his  joy;  and  the 
shadow  of  sorrow  scattered  it,  though  it  were  but  the 
shade  of  poverty. 

"  Here  Benita  wept  a  little;  and  I  liked  her  none  the 
less,  and  believed  her  ten  times  more,  in  virtue  of  a  tear 
or  two. 

"  And  so  they  traveled  through  Northern  Italy,  and 
throughout  the  south  of  France,  making  their  way  anyhow; 


464  LOttJ^A  DOONE. 

sometimes  in  coaches,  sometimes  in  carts,  sometimes  upon 
mule-back,  sometimes  even  afoot  and  weary,  but  always  as 
happy  as  could  be.  The  children  laughed  and  grew,  and 
throve  (especially  the  young  lady,  the  elder  of  the  two), 
and  Benita  began  to  think  that  omens  must  not  be  relied 
upon.  But  suddenly  her  faith  in  omens  was  confirmed 
forever. 

^^  My  lord,  who  was  quite  a  young  man  still,  and  laughed 
at  English  arrogance,  rode  on  in  front  of  his  wife  and 
friends,  to  catch  the  first  of  a  famous  view  on  the  French 
side  of  the  Pyrenee  hills.  He  kissed  his  hand  to  his  wife, 
and  said  that  he  would  save  her  the  trouble  of  coming. 
For  those  two  were  so  one  in  one,  that  they  could  make 
each  other  know  whatever  he  or  she  had  felt.  And  so  my 
lord  went  round  the  corner,  with  a  fine  young  horse  leap- 
ing at  the  steps. 

*'  They  waited  for  him  long  and  long;  but  he  never  came 
again;  and  within  a  week  his  mangled  body  lay  in  a  little 
chapel-yard;  and  if  the  priests  only  said  a  quarter  of  the 
prayers  they  took  the  money  for,  God  knows  they  can  have 
no  throats  left,  only  a  relaxation. 

*'  My  lady  dwelt  for  six  months  more — it  is  a  melancholy 
tale  (what  true  tale  is  not  so?) — scarcely  able  to  believe 
that  all  her  fright  was  not  a  dream.  She  would  not  wear 
a  piece  or  shape  of  any  mourning  clothes;  she  would  not 
have  a  person  cry,  or  any  sorrow  among  us.  She  simply 
disbelieved  the  thing,  and  trusted  God  to  right  it.  The 
Protestants,  who  have  no  faith,  cannot  understand  this 
feeling.  Enough  that  so  it  was;  and  so  my  lady  went  to 
heaven. 

'^  For  when  the  snow  came  down  in  autumn  on  the 
roots  of  the  Pyrenees,  and  the  chapel-yard  was  white  witli 
it,  many  people  told  the  lady  that  it  was  time  for  her  to  go. 
And  the  strongest  plea  of  all  was  this,  that  now  she  bore 
another  hope  of  repeating  her  husband's  virtues.  So  at 
the  end  of  October,  when  wolves  came  down  to  the  farm- 
lands, the  little  English  family  went  home  toward  their 
England. 

*^They  landed  somewhere  on  the  Devonshire  coast,  ten 
or  eleven  years  agone,  and  stayed  some  days  at  Exeter,  and 
set  out  thence  in  a  hired  coach,  without  any  proper  attend- 
ance, for  Watche.tt,  in  the  north  of  Somerset.     For  the 


JEREMT  pmt)8  OtT  SOMETHING.  465 

lady  owned  a  quiet  mansion  in  the  neighborhood  of  that 
town,  and  her  one  desire  was  to  find  refuge  there,  aiid  to 
meet  her  lord,  who  was  sure  to  come  (she  said)  when  he 
heard  of  his  new  infant.  Therefore,  with  only  two  serving- 
men  and  two  maids  (including  Benita),  the  party  set  forth 
from  Exeter,  and  lay  the  first  night  at  Bampton. 

"■  On  the  following  morn  they  started  bravely,  with 
earnest  hope  of  arriving  at  their  journey's  end  by  daylight. 
But  the  roads  were  soft  and  very  deep,  and  the  sloughs 
were  out  in  places,  and  the  heavy  coach  broke  down  in  the 
axle,  and  needed  mending  at  Dulverton;  and  so  they  lost 
three  hours  or  more,  and  would  have  been  wiser  to  sleep 
there.  But  her  ladyship  would  not  hear  of  it;  she  must 
be  home  that  night,  she  said,  and  her  husband  would  be 
waiting.  How  could  she  keep  him  waiting  now,  after 
such  a  long,  long  time? 

"Therefore,  although  it  was  afternoon,  and  the  year 
now  come  to  December,  the  horses  were  put  to  again,  and 
the  heavy  coach  went  up  the  hill,  with  the  lady  and  her 
two  children,  and  Benita,  sitting  inside  of  it;  the  other 
maid,  and  two  serving- men  (each  man  with  a  great  blun- 
derbuss) mounted  upon  the  outside,  and  upon  the  horses 
three  Exeter  postilions.  Much  had  been  said  at  Dulverton, 
and  even  back  at  Bampton,  about  some  great  freebooters, 
to  whom  all  Exmoor  owed  suit  and  service,  and  paid  them 
very  punctually.  Both  the  serving-men  were  scared,  even 
over  their  ale,  by  this.  But  the  lady  only  said,  '  Drive  on; 
I  know  a  little  of  highwaymen:  they  never  rob  a  lady.' 

"  Through  the  fog  and  through  the  muck  the  coach 
went  on,  as  best  it  might;  sometimes  foundered  in  a  slough, 
with  half  of  the  horses  splashing  it,  and  sometimes 
knuckled  up  on  a  bank,  and  straining  across  the  middle, 
while  all  the  horses  kicked  at  it.  However,  they  went  on 
till  dark  as  well  as  might  be  expected.  But  when  they 
came,  all  thanking  God,  to  the  pitch  and  slope  of  the  sea- 
bank  leading  on  toward  Watchett  town,  and  where  my 
horse  had  shied  so,  there  the  little  boy  Jumped  up  and  clap- 
ped his  hands  at  the  water;  and  there  (as  Benita  said) 
they  met  their  fate,  and  could  not  fly  it. 

"Although  it  was  past  the  dusk  of  day,  the  silver  light 
from  the  sea  flowed  in,  and  showed  the  cliffs,  and  the  gray 
sand-line,  and  the  drifts  of  wseck,  and  wrack-weed.     It 


m  tOR^A  DOONE. 

Hhowed  them  also  a  troop  of  liorsemen  waiting  under  a 
rock  hard  by,  and  ready  to  dasli  upon  them.  The  postil- 
ions lashed  toward  the  sea,  and  the  horses  strove  in  tlie 
depth  of  sand,  and  the  serving-men  cocked  their  blunder- 
busses, and  cowered  away  behind  them;  but  the  lady  stood 
up  in  the  carriage  bravely,  and  neither  screamed  nor  spoke, 
but  hid  her  son  behind  her.  Meanwhile  the  drivers  drove 
into  the  sea  till  the  leading  horses  were  swimming. 

^*But  before  the  waves  came  into  the  coach,  a  score  of 
fierce  men  were  round  it.  They  cursed  the  postilions  for 
mad  cowards,  and  cut  the  traces,  and  seized  the  wheel- 
horses,  all  wild  with  dismay  in  the  wet  and  the  dark. 
Then,  while  the  carriage  was  heeling  over,  and  well-nigh 
upset  in  the  water,  the  lady  exclaimed,  *I  know  that  man  I 
He  is  our  ancient  enemy;'  and  Benita  (foreseeing  that  all 
their  boxes  would  be  turned  inside  out,  or  carried  away) 
snatched  the  most  valuable  of  the  jewels,  a  magnificent 
necklace  of  diamonds,  and  cast  it  over  the  little  girl's  head, 
and  buried  it  under  her  traveling-cloak,  hoping  so  to  save 
it.  Then  a  great  wave,  crested  with  foam,  rolled  in,  and 
the  coach  was  thrown  on  its  side,  and  the  sea  rushed  in  at 
the  top  and  the  windows,  upon  shrieking,  and  clashing, 
and  fainting  away. 

'*  What  followed  Benita  knew  not,  as  one  might  well  sup- 
pose, herself  being  stunned  by  a  blow  on  the  head,  besides 
being  palsied  with  terror.  *  See,  T  have  the  mark  now,'  she 
said,  ^where  the  jamb  of  the  door  came  down  on  me!'  But 
when  she  recovered  her  senses,  she  found  herself  lying 
upon  the  sand;  the  robbers  were  out  of  sight,  and  one  of 
the  serving-men  was  bathing  her  forehead  with  sea-water. 
For  this  she  rated  him  well,  having  taken  already  too  much 
of  that  article;  and  then  she  arose  and  ran  to  her  mistress, 
who  was  sitting  upright  on  a  little  rock,  with  her  dead 
boy's  face  to  her  bosom,  sometimes  gazing  upon  him,  and 
sometimes  questing  round  for  the  other  one. 

"Although  there  were  torches  and  links  around,  and 
she  looked  at  her  child  by  the  light  of  them,  no  one  dared 
to  approach  the  lady,  or  speak,  or  try  to  help  her.  Each 
man  whispered  his  fellow  to  go,  but  each  hung  back  him- 
self, and  muttered  that  it  was  too  awful  to  meddle  with. 
And  there  she  would  have  sat  all  night,  with  the  fine  little 
fellow  stone  dead  in  her  arms,  and  her  tearless  eyes  dwell- 


JEREMY  FINDS  OUT  SOMETHING.  467 

ing  upon  him,  and  her  heart  but  not  her  mind  thinking, 
only  that  the  Italian  woman  stole  up  softly  to  her  side  and 
whispered,  *It  is  the  will  of  God/ 

***So  it  always  seems  to  be,'  were  all  the  words  the 
mother  answered,  and  then  she  fell  on  Benita^s  neck;  and 
the  men  were  ashamed  to  be  near  her  weeping;  and  a  sailor 
lay  down  and  bellowed.     Surely  these  men  are  the  best. 

**  Before  the  light  of  the  morning  came  along  the  tide  to 
Watchett,  my  lady  had  met  her  husband.  They  took  her 
into  the  town  that  night,  but  not  to  her  own  castle;  and 
so  the  power  of  womanhood  (which  is  itself  maternity) 
came  over  swiftly  upon  her.  The  lady,  whom  all  people 
loved  (though  at  certain  times  particular),  lies  in  Watchett 
little  church-yard,  with  son  and  heir  at  her  right  hand, 
and  a  little  babe,  of  sex  unknown,  sleeping  on  her  bosom. 

**  This  is  a  miserable  tale,''  said  Jeremy  Stickles,  brightly; 
*^  hand  me  over  the  schnapps,  my  boy.  What  fools  we 
are  to  spoil  our  eyes  for  other  people's  troubles!  Enough 
of  our  own  to  keep  them  clean,  although  we  all  were 
chimney-sweeps.  There  is  nothing  like  good  hollands 
when  a  man  becomes  too  sensitive.  Restore  the  aetion  of 
the  glands;  that  is  my  rule,  after  weeping.  Let  me  make 
you  another,  John.     You  are  quite  low-spirited." 

But  although  Master  Jeremy  carried  on  so  (as  be«ame 
his  manhood),  and  laughed  at  the  sailor's  bellowing;  bless 
his  heart,  I  knew  as  well  that  tears  were  in  his  bravt  keen 
eyes,  as  if  I  had  dared  to  look  for  them,  or  to  show  mine 
own. 

*' And  what  was  the  lady's  name?"  I  asked;  "and  what 
became  of  the  little  girl?  and  why  did  the  woman  stay 
there?" 

*'Well!"  cried  Jeremy  Stickles,  only  too  glad  to  be 
cheerful  again:  "  talk  of  a  woman  after  that!  As  we  used 
to  say  at  school — *  Who  dragged  whom,  how  many  times, 
in  what  manner,  round,  the  wall  of  what?'  But  to  begin 
last  first,  my  John  (as  becomes  a  woman),  Benita  stayed  in 
that  blessed  place  because  she  could  not  get  away  from  it. 
The  Doones — if  Doones  indeed  they  were,  about  which  you 
of  course  know  best — took  every  stiver  out  of  the  carriage: 
wet  or  dry,  they  took  it.  And  Benita  could  never  get  her 
wages;  for  the  whole  affair  is  in  chancery,  and  they  have 
appointed  a  receiver. 


468  LORNA  BOONE. 

"  Whew  !^' said  I,  knowing  something  of  London,  and 
sorry  for  Benita^s  chance. 

*'So  the  poor  thing  was  compelled  to  drop  all  thought 
of  Apulia,  and  settle  down  on  the  brink  of  Exmoor,  where 
you  get  all  its  evils,  without  the  good  to  balance  them. 
She  married  a  man  who  turned  a  wheel  for  making  the 
blue  Watchett  ware,  partly  because  he  could  give  her  a 
house,  and  partly  because  he  proved  himself  a  good  soul 
toward  my  lady.  There  they  are,  and  have  three  children; 
and  there  you  may  go  and  visit  them." 

*'I  understand  all  that,  Jeremy,  though  you  do  tell 
things  too  quickly,  and  I  would  rather  have  John  Fry's 
style;  for  he  leaves  one  time  for  his  words  to  melt.  Now 
for  my  second  question.     What  became  of  the  little  maid  ?" 

**  You  great  oaf!  "  cried  Jeremy  Stickles;  '^you  are  rather 
more  likely  to  know,  I  should  think,  than  any  one  else  in 
all  the  kingdoms." 

"  If  I  knew,  I  should  not  ask  you.  Jeremy  Stickles,  do 
try  to  be  neither  conceited  nor  thick-headed." 

**I  will  when  you  are  neither,"  answered  Master  Jeremy; 
but  you  occupy  all  the  room,  John.  No  one  else  can  get 
in  with  you  there." 

*^  Very  well,  then,  let  me  out.  Take  me  down  in  both 
ways." 

**  If  ever  you  were  taken  down;  you  must  have  your 
double  joints  ready  now.  And  yet  in  other  ways  you  will 
be  as  proud  and  set  up  as  Lucifer.  As  certain  sure  as  I 
stand  here,  that  little  maid  is  Lorna  Doone/* 


/)  MUTUAL  DISCOMFITURE.  469 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

MUTUAL   DISCOMFITURE. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  I  was  altogether  so  thick- 
headed as  Jeremy  would  have  made  me  out.  But  it  is  part 
of  my  character  that  I  like  other  people  to  think  me  slow, 
and  to  labor  hard  to  enlighten  me,  while  all  the  time  I  can 
say  to  myself,  "  This  man  is  shallower  than  I  am;  it  is 
pleasant  to  see  his  shoals  come  up  while  he  is  sounding 
mine  so!"  Not  that  I  would  so  behave,  God  forbid,  with 
anybody  (be  it  man  or  woman)  who  in  simple  heart 
approached  me  with  no  gauge  of  intellect.  But  when  the 
upper  hand  is  taken,  upon  the  faith  of  one's  patience,  by  a 
man  of  even  smaller  wits  (not  that  Jeremy  was  that,  neither 
could  he  have  lived  to  be  thought  so),  why  it  naturally 
happens  that  we  knuckle  under,  with  an  ounce  of  indig- 
nation. 

Jeremy's  tale  would  have  moved  me  greatly  both  with 
sorrow  and  anger,  even  without  my  guess  at  first,  and  now 
my  firm  belief,  that  the  child  of  those  unlucky  parents  was 
indeed  my  Lorna.  And  as  I  thought  of  the  lady's  troubles, 
and  her  faith  in  Providence,  and  her  cruel,  childless  death, 
and  then  imagined  how  my  darling  would  be  overcome  to 
hear  it,  you  may  well  believe  that  my  quick  replies  to 
Jeremy  Stickles'  banter  were  but  as  the  flourish  of  a  drum 
to  cover  the  sounds  of  pain. 

For  when  he  described  the  heavy  coach  and  the  persons 
in  and  upon  it,  and  the  breaking  down  at  Dulverton,  and 
the  place  of  their  destination;  as  well  as  the  time  and  the 
weather,  and  the  season  of  the  year,  my  heart  began  to 
burn  within  me,  and  my  mind  replaced  the  pictures,  first 
of  the  foreign  lady's  maid  by  the  pump  caressing  me,  and 
then  of  the  coach  struggling  up  the  hill,  and  the  beautiful 
dame,  and  the  fine  little  boy,  with  the  white  cockade  in  his 
hat;  but  most  of  all  the  little  girl,  dark-haired  and  very 


470  LORNA  BOONE, 

lovely,  and  having  even  in  those  days  the  rich  soft  look  of 
Lorna. 

But  when  he  spoke  of  the  necklace  thrown  over  the  head 
of  the  little  maiden,  and  of  her  disappearance,  before  my 
eyes  arose  at  once  the  flashing  of  the  beacon  fire,  the  lonely 
moors  embrowned  with  light,  the  tramp  of  the  outlaw 
cavalcade,  and  the  helpless  child  head  downward  lying 
across  the  robber^s  saddle-bow.  Then  I  remembered  my 
own  mad  shout  of  boyish  indignation,  and  marveled  at  the 
strange  long  way  by  which  the  events  of  life  come  round. 
And  while  I  thought  of  my  own  return,  and  childish 
attempt  to  hide  myself  from  sorrow  in  the  sawpit,  and  the 
agony  of  my  mother's  tears,  it  did  not  fail  to  strike  me  as 
a  thing  of  omen  that  the  self-same  day  should  be,  both  to 
my  darling  and  myself,  the  blackest  and  most  miserable  of 
all  youthful  days. 

The  King's  Commissioner  thought  it  wise,  for  some  good 
reason  of  his  own,  to  conceal  from  me  for  the  present  the 
name  of  the  poor  lady  supposed  to  be  Lorna's  mother;  and 
knowing  that  I  could  easily  now  discover  it  without  him, 
I  let  that  question  abide  a  while.  Indeed  I  was  half  afraid 
to  hear  it,  remembering  that  the  nobler  and  the  wealthier 
she  proved  to  be,  the  smaller  was  my  chance  of  winning 
such  a  wife  for  plain  John  Ridd.  Not  that  she  would  give 
me  up — that  I  never  dreamed  of;  but  that  others  would 
interfere;  or  indeed  I  myself  might  find  it  only  honest  to 
relinquish  her.  That  last  thought  was  a  dreadful  blow, 
and  took  my  breath  away  from  me. 

Jeremy  Stickles  was  quite  decided — and  of  course  the 
discovery  being  his,  he  had  a  right  to  be  so — that  not  a 
word  of  all  these  things  must  be  imparted  to  Lorna  herself, 
or  even  to  my  mother,  or  any  one  whatever.  **  Keep  it 
tight  as  wax,  my  lad,''  he  cried,  with  a  wink  of  great  ex- 
pression; "this  belongs  tome,  mind;  and  the  credit,  ay, 
and  the  premium,  and  the  right  of  discount,  are  alto- 
gether mine.  It  would  have  taken  you  fifty  years  to  put 
two  and  two  together  so  as  I  did,  like  a  clap  of  thunder. 
Ah!  God  has  given  some  men  brains;  and  others  have 
good  farms  and  money,  and  a  certain  skill  in  the  lower 
beasts.  Each  must  use  his  special  talent.  You  work  your 
farm,  I  work  my  brains.  In  the  end^  my  lad,  I  shall  beat 
you/' 


MUTUAL  DISCOMFITURE,  471 

'*Then,  Jeremy,  what  a  fool  you  must  be,  if  you  cudgel 
your  brains  to  make  money  of  this,  to  ope^i  the  barn-door 
to  me,  and  show  me  all  your  threshing." 

**  Not  a  whit,  my  son.  Quite  the  opposite.  Two  men 
always  thresh  better  than  one.  And  here  I  have  you  bound 
to  use  the  flail,  one  two,  with  mine,  and  yet  in  strictest 
honor  bound  not  to  bushel  up  till  I  tell  you." 

*'But,"  said  I,  being  much  amused  by  a  Londoner's 
brave,  yet  uncertain,  use  of  simplest  rural  metaphors,  for 
he  had  wholly  forgotten  the  winnowing,  "  surely  if  I 
bushel  up  even  when  you  tell  me,  I  must  take  half- 
measure. 

"So  you  shall,  my  boy,"  he  answered,  "if  we  can  only 
cheat  those  confounded  knaves  of  Equity.  You  shall  take 
the  beauty,  my  son,  and  the  elegance,  and  the  love,  and 
all  that — and  my  boy,  I  will  take  the  money." 

This  he  said  in  a  way  so  dry,  and  yet  so  richly  unctuous, 
that  being  gifted  somehow  by  God  with  a  kind  of  sense  of 
queerness,  I  fell  back  in  my  chair  and  laughed,  though  the 
underside  of  my  laugh  was  tears. 

"  Now,  Jeremy,  how  if  I  refuse  to  keep  this  half  as  tight 
as  wax?  You  bound  me  to  no  such  partnership  before  you 
told  the  story;  and  I  am  not  sure,  by  any  means,  of  your 
right  to  do  so  afterward.'' 

"Tush!"  he  replied;  "  I  know  you  too  well  to  look  for 
meanness  in  you.  If  from  pure  good- will,  John  Ridd,  and 
anxiety  to  relieve  you,  I  made  no  condition  precedent,  you 
are  not  the  man  to  take  advantage  as  a  lawyer  might.  I  do 
not  even  want  your  promise.  As  sure  as  I  hold  this  glass, 
and  drink  your  health  and  love  in  another  drop  (forced  on 
me  by  pathetic  words),  so  surely  will  you  be  bound  to  me 
until  I  do  release  you.  Tush!  I  know  men  well  by  this  time; 
a  mere  look  of  trust  from  one  is  worth  another's  ten 
thousand  oaths." 

"Jeremy,  you  are  right,"  I  answered;  "at  least  as 
regards  the  issue.  Although  perhaps  you  were  not  right  in 
leading  me  into  a  bargain  like  this,  without  my  own  con- 
sent or  knowledge.  But  supposing  that  we  should  both  be 
shot  in  this  grand  attack  on  the  valley  (for  I  mean  to  go 
with  you  now,  heart  and  soul),  is  Lorna  to  remain  untold 
of  that  which  changes  all  her  life?" 

"Both  shot!"  cried   Jeremy  Stickles;  "my  goodness. 


472  LORNA  DOONE, 

boy,  talk  not  like  that!  And  those  Doones  are  cursed 
good  shots,  too.  Nay,  nay,  the  yellows  shall  go  in  front; 
we  attack  on  the  Somerset  side,  I  think.  I  from  a  hill 
will  reconnoiter  as  behooves  a  general,  you  shall  stick  be- 
hind a  tree,  if  we  can  only  find  one  big  enough  to  hide  you. 
You  and  I  to  be  shot,  John  Ridd,  with  all  this  inferior 
food  for  powder  anxious  to  be  devoured?" 

I  laughed,  for  I  knew  his  cool  hardihood  and  never- 
flinching  courage;  and,  sooth  to  say,  no  coward  would 
have  dared  to  talk  like  that. 

"  But  when  one  comes  to  think  of  it,"  he  continued, 
smiling  at  himself;  *'some  provision  should  be  made  for 
even  that  unpleasant  chance.  I  will  leave  the  whole  in 
writing,  with  orders  to  be  opened,  etc.,  etc.  Now  no  more 
of  that,  my  boy;  a  cigarro  after  schnapps,  and  go  to  meet 
my  yellow  boys." 

His  "yellow  boys,"  as  he  called  the  Somersetshire  train- 
bands, were  even  now  coming  down  the  valley  from  the 
*^  London-road,''  as  every  one  since  I  went  up  to  town, 
grandly  entitled  the  lane  to  the  moors.  There  was  one 
good  point  about  these  men,  that  having  no  discipline  at 
all,  they  made  pretense  to  none  whatever.  Nay,  rather, 
they  ridiculed  the  thing,  as  below  men  of  any  spirit.  On 
the  other  hand,  Master  Stickles'  troopers  looted  down  on 
these  native  fellows  from  a  height  which  I  hope  they  may 
never  tumble,  for  it  would  break  the  necks  of  all  of  them. 

Now  these  fine  natives  came  along,  singing,  for  their 
very  lives,  a  song  the  like  of  which  set  down  here  would 
oust  my  book  from  modest  people,  and  make  everybody 
say,  "  This  man  never  can  have  loved  Lorna."  Therefore, 
the  less  of  that  th3  better;  only  I  thought,  "  What  a  differ- 
ence from  the  goodly  psalms  of  the  ale-house!" 

Having  finished  their  canticle,  which  contained  more 
mirth  than  melody,  they  drew  themselves  up,  in  a  sort  of 
way  supposed  by  them  to  be  military,  each  man  with  heel 
and  elbow  struck  into  those  of  his  neighbor,  and  saluted 
the  King's  Commissioner.  "  Why,  where  are  your  offi- 
cers?" asked  Master  Stickles;  "  how  is  it  that  you  have  no 
officers?"  Upon  this  there  arose  a  general  grin,  and  a 
knowing  look  passed  along  their  faces,  even  up  to  the  man 
by  the  gate-post.  "Are  you  going  to  tell  me  or  not,"  said 
Jeremy,  "  what  is  become  of  your  officers ?'* 


MUTUAL  DISCOMFITURE.  473 

^*  Plaise,  zur/'  said  one  little  fellow  at  last,  being  nodded 
at  by  the  rest  to  speak,  in  right  of  his  known  eloquence, 
^'hus  tould  Harfizers,  as  a  wor  no  nade  of  'un,  now  King^s 
man  hiszell  wor  coom,  a  pappose  vor  to  command  us 
laike." 

''  And  do  you  mean  to  say,  you  villains,"  cried  Jeremy, 
scarce  knowing  whether  to  laugh  or  to  swear,  or  what  to 
do,  *' that  your  officers  took  their  dismissal  thus,  and  let  you 
come  on  without  them?" 

"  What  could  'em  do?" asked  the  little  man,  with  reason 
certainly  on  his  side;  '*  hus  zent  'era  about  their  business, 
and  they  was  glad  enough  to  goo." 

**  Well!"  said  poor  Jeremy,  turning  to  me;  "a  pretty 
state  of  things,  John!  Three-score  cobblers  and  farming- 
men,  plasterers,  tailors,  and  kettles- to-mend;  and  not  a 
man  to  keep  order  among  them  except  my  blessed  self, 
John?  And  I  trow  there  is  not  one  among  them  could 
hit  a  barn-door  flying.  The  Doones  will  make  riddles  of 
all  of  us." 

However,  he  had  better  hopes  when  the  sons  of  Devon 
appeared,  as  they  did  in  about  an  hour's  time,  fine  fellows, 
and  eager  to  prove  themselves.  These  had  not  discarded 
their  officers,  but  marched  in  good  obedience  to  them,  and 
were  quite  prepared  to  fight  the  men  of  Somerset  (if  need 
be)  in  addition  to  the  Doones.  And  there  was  scarcely  a 
man  among  them  but  could  have  trounced  three  of  th« 
yellow  men,  and  would  have  done  it  gladly,  too,  in  honor 
of  the  red  facings. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  suppose.  Master  Jeremy  Stickles,'* 
said  I,  looking  on  with  amazement,  beholding  also  all  our 
maidens  at  the  upstair  windows  wondering,  "  that  we,  my 
mother  a  widow  woman,  and  I  a  young  man  of  small 
estate,  can  keep  and  support  all  these  precious  fellows, 
both  yellow  ones  and  red  ones,  until  they  have  taken  the 
Doone  Glen?" 

•'^  God  forbid  it,  my  son!"  he  replied,  laying  a  finger  upon 
his  lip.  "  Nay,  nay,  I  am  not  of  the  shabby  order  when  I 
have  the  strings  of  government.  Kill  your  sheep  at  famine 
prices,  and  knead  your  bread  at  a  figure  expressing  the 
rigors  of  last  winter.  Let  Annie  make  out  the  bill  every 
day,  and  I  at  night  will  double  it.  You  may  take  my 
word  for  it.  Master  John,  this  spring  harvest  shall  bring 


474  LORN  A  DOONE. 

you  in  three  times  as  much  as  last  autumn's  did.  If  they 
cheated  you  in  town,  my  lad,  you  shall  have  your  change 
in  the  country.     Take  thy  bill,  and  write  down  quickly." 

However,  this  did  not  meet  my  views  of  what  an  honest 
man  should  do;  and  I  went  to  consult  my  mother  about  it, 
as  all  the  accounts  would  be  made  in  her  name. 

Dear  mother  thought  that  if  the  King  paid  only  half 
again  as  much  as  other  people  would  have  to  pay,  it  would 
be  perhaps  the  proper  thing,  the  half  being  due  for  loyalty; 
and  here  she  quoted  an  ancient  saying: 

"  The  King  and  his  staff 
Be  a  man  and  a  half;" 

which,  according  to  her  judgment,  ruled  beyond  dispute 
the  law  of  the  present  question.  To  argue  with  her  after 
that  (which  she  brought  up  with  such  triumph)  would 
have  been  worse  than  useless.  Therefore  I  Just  told  Annie 
to  make  the  bills  at  a  third  below  the  current  market 
prices,  so  that  the  upshot  would  be  fair.  She  promised 
me  honestly  that  she  would,  but  with  a  twinkle  in  her 
bright  blue  eyes,  which  she  must  have  caught  from  Tom 
Faggus.  It  always  has  appeared  to  me  that  stern  and 
downright  honesty  upon  money  matters  is  a  thing  not  un- 
derstood of  woman,  be  they  as  good  as  good  can  be. 

The  yellows  and  the  reds  together  numbered  a  hundred 
and  twenty  men,  most  of  whom  slept  in  our  barns  and 
slacks;  and  besides  these  we  had  fifteen  troopers  of  the 
regular  army.  You  may  suppose  that  all  the  country  was 
turned  upside  down  about  it;  and  the  folk  who  came  to 
see  them  drill — by  no  means  a  needless  exercise — were  a 
greater  plague  than  the  soldiers.  The  officers,  too,  of  the 
Devopshii'e  band  were  such  a  torment  to  us,  that  we  almost 
wished  their  men  had  dismissed  them,  as  the  Somerset 
troop  had  done  with  theirs.  For  we  could  not  keep  them 
out  of  our  house,  being  all  young  men  of  good  family,  and 
therefore  not  to  be  met  with  bars.  And  having *now  three 
lovely  maidens  (for  even  Lizzie  might  be  called  so,  when 
she  cared  to  please),  mother  and  I  were  at  wit's  ends,  on 
account  of  those  blessed  officers.  I  never  got  a  wink  of 
sleep,  they  came  whistling  under  the  window  so;  and  di- 
rectly I  went  out  to  chase  them,  there  was  nothing  but  a 
cat  to  see. 


MUTUAL  mSCOMFITUMJS.  475 

Therefore  all  of  us  were  right  glad  (except  perhaps 
Farmer  Snowe,  from  wh«m  we  had  bought  some  victuals 
at  rare  price)  when  Jeremy  Stickles  gave  orders  to  march, 
and  we  began  to  try  to  do  it.  A  good  deal  of  boasting 
went  overhead,  as  our  men  defiled  along  the  lane,  and  the 
thick  broad  patins  of  pennywort  jutted  out  between  the 
stones,  ready  to  heal  their  bruises.  The  parish  choir  came 
part  of  the  way,  and  the  singing-loft  from  Countisbury; 
and  they  kept  our  soldiers'  spirits  up  with  some  of  the 
most  pugnacious  Psalms.  Parson  Bowden  marched 
ahead,  leading  all  our  van  and  file,  as  against  the  Papists, 
and  promising  to  go  with  us  till  we  came  to  bullet  dis- 
tance. Therefore  we  marched  bravely  on,  and  children 
came  to  look  at  us.  And  I  wondered  where  Uncle  Reuben 
was,  who  ought  to  have  led  the  culverins  (whereof  we  had 
no  less  than  three)  if  Stickles  could  only  have  found  him; 
and  then  I  thought  of  little  Ruth ;  and,  without  any  fault 
on  my  part,  my  heart  went  down  within  me. 

The  culverins  were  laid  on  barb,  and  all  our  horses  pull- 
ing tliem,  and  looking  round  every  now  and  then,  with  their 
ears  curved  up  like  a  squirreled  nut,  and  their  noses  tossing 
anxiously,  to  know  what  sort  of  plow  it  was  man  had  been 
pleased  to  put  behind  them — man,  whose  endless  whims 
and  wildness  they  could  never  understand,  any  more  than 
they  could  satisfy.  However,  they  pulled  their  very  best 
— as  all  our  horses  always  do — and  the  culverins  went  up 
the  hill,  without  smack  of  whip,  or  swearing.  It  had  been 
arranged,  very  justly  no  doubt,  and  quite  in  keeping  with 
the  spirit  of  the  constitution,  but,  as  it  proved,  not  too 
wisely,  that  either  body  of  men  should  act  in  its  own 
county  only.  So  when  we  reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  the 
sons  of  Devon  marched  on,  and  across  the  track  leading 
into  Doone-gate,  so  as  to  fetch  round  the  westem*side,  and 
attack  with  their  culverin  from  the  cliffs,  whence  the  sentry 
had  challenged  me  on  the  night  of  my  passing  the  entrance. 
Meanwhile  the  yellow  lads  were  to  stay  upon  the  eastern 
highland,  whence  Uncle  Reuben  and  myself  had  recon- 
noitered  so  long  ago;  and  whence  I  had  leaped  into  the 
valley  at  the  time  of  the  great  snow-drifts.  And  here  they, 
were  not  to  show  themselves,  but  keep  their  culverin  in  the 
woods  until  their  cousins  of  Devon  appeared  on  the  op- 
posite parapet  of  the  glen. 


476  LORN  A  DOONK 

The  third  culverin  was  intrusted  to  the  fifteen  troopers, 
who  with  ten  picked  soldiers  from  either  trained  band, 
making  in  all  five-and-thirty  men,  were  to  assault  the 
Doone-gate  itself,  while  the  outlaws  were  placed  between  two 
fires  from  the  eastern  cliff  and  the  western.  And  with  this 
force  went  Jeremy  Stickles,  and  with  it  went  myself,  as 
knowing  more  about  the  passage  than  any  other  stranger 
did.  Therefore,  if  I  have  put  it  clearly,  as  I  strive  to  do, 
you  will  see  that  the  Doones  must  repulse  at  once  three 
simultaneous  attacks,  from  an  army  numbering  in  the 
whole  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  men,  not  including  the 
Devonshire  officers;  fifty  men  on  each  side,  I  mean,  and 
thirty-five  at  the  head  of  the  valley. 

The  tactics  of  this  grand  campaign  appeared  to  me  so 
clever,  and  beautifully  ordered,  that  I  commended  ^^Colonel 
Stickles,"  as  everybody  now  called  him,  for  his  great  ability 
and  mastery  of  the  art  of  war.  He  admitted  that  he  de- 
served high  praise,  but  said  that  he  was  not  by  any  means 
equally  certain  of  success-,  so  large  a  proportion  of  his  forces 
being  only  a  raw  militia,  brave  enough,  no  doubt,  for  any- 
thing, when  they  saw  their  way  to  it,  but  knowing  little  of 
gunnery,  and  wholly  unused  to  be  shot  at.  Whereas  all 
the  Doones  were  practiced  marksmen,  being  compelled 
when  lads  (like  the  Balearic  slingers)  to  strike  down  their 
meals  before  tasting  them.  And  then  Colonel  Stickles 
asked  me  whether  I  myself  could  stand  fire;  he  knew  that 
I  was  not  a  coward,  but  this  was  a  different  question.  I 
told  him  that  I  had  been  shot  at  once  or  twice  before;  but 
nevertheless  disliked  it  as  much  as  almost  anything.  Upon 
that,  he  said  that  I  would  do;  for  that  when  a  man  got  over 
the  first  blush  of  diffidence,  he  soon  began  to  look  upon  it 
as  a  puff  of  destiny. 

I  wish  I  could  only  tell  what  happened  in  the  battle  of 
that  day,  especially  as  nearly  all  the  people  round  these 
parts,  who  never  saw  gun-fire  in  it,  have  gotten  the  tale  so 
much  amiss;  and  some  of  them  will  even  stand  in  front  of  my 
own  hearth,  and  contradict  me  to  the  teeth,  although  at 
the  time  they  were  not  born,  nor  their  fathers  put  into 
breeches.  But  in  truth  I  cannot  tell  exactly  even  the  part 
in  which  I  helped;  how  then  can  I  be  expected,  time  by 
time,  to  lay  before  you  all  the  little  ins  and  outs  of  places 
where  I  myself  was  not?    Only  I  can  contradict  things 


MUTUAL  DISCOMFITURE.  477 

which  I  know  could  not  have  been,  and  what  I  plainly  saw 
should  not  be  controverted  in  my  own  house. 

Now  we  five-and-thirty  men  lay  back,  a  little  way  round 
the  corner,  in  the  hollow  of  the  track  which  leads  to  the 
strong  Doone-gate.  Our  culverin  was  in  among  us,  loaded 
now  to  the  muzzle,  and  it  was  not  comfortable  to  know 
that  it  might  go  off  at  any  time.  Although  the  yeomanry 
were  not  come  (according  to  arrangement),  some  of  us 
had  horses  there,  besides  the  horses  who  dragged  the 
cannon,  and  now  were  sniffing  at  it.  And  there  were 
plenty  of  spectators  to  mind  these  horses  for  us  as  soon  as 
we  should  charge;  inasmuch  as  all  our  friends  and  neigh- 
bors, who  had  so  keenly  prepared  for  the  battle,  now  re- 
solved to  take  no  part,  but  look  on,  and  praise  the  winners. 

At  last  we  heard  the  loud  bang-bang,  which  proved  that 
Devon  and  Somerset  were  pouring  their  indignation  hot 
into  the  den  of  malefactoi*s,  or  at  least  so  we  supposed; 
therefore  at  double-quick  march  we  advanced  round  the 
bend  of  the  cliff  which  had  hidden  us,  hoping  to  find  the 
gate  undefended,  and  to  blow  down  all  barriers  with  the 
fire  of  our  cannon.  And  indeed  it  seemed  likely  at  first  to 
be  so,  for  the  wild  and  mountainous  gorge  of  rock  appeared 
to  be  all  in  pure  loneliness,  exoept  where  the  colored  coats 
of  our  soldiers,  and  their  metal  trappings,  shone  with  the 
sun  behind  them.  Therefore  we  shouted  a  loud  hurra,  as 
for  an  easy  victory. 

But  while  the  sound  of  our  cheer  rung  back  among  the 
crags  above  us,  a  shrill,  clear  whistle  cleft  the  air  for  a 
single  moment,  and  then  a  dozen  carbines  bellowed,  and 
all  among  us  flew  murderous  lead.  Several  of  our  men 
rolled  over,  but  the  rest  rushed  on  like  Britons,  Jeremy 
and  myself  in  front,  while  we  heard  the  horses  plunging  at 
the  loaded  gun  behind  us.  '*  Now,  my  lads,"  cried  Jeremy, 
''one  dash,  and  we  are  beyond  them!*'  For  he  saw  that 
the  foe  was  overhead  in  the  gallery  of  brush-wood. 

Our  men  with  a  brave  shout  answered  him,  for  his  cour- 
age was  fine  example;  and  we  leaped  in  under  the  feet  of 
the  foe  before  they  could  load  their  guns  again.  But 
here,  when  the  foremost  among  us  were  past,  an  awful 
crash  rung  behind  us,  with  the  shrieks  of  men,  and  the 
din  of  metal,  and  the  horrible  screaming  of  horses.  The 
trunk  of  the  tree  had  been  launched  overhead,  and  crashed 


478  LORNA  DOONE. 

into  the  very  midst  of  us.  Our  cannon  was  under  it,  so 
were  two  men,  and  a  horse  with  his  poor  back  broken. 
Another  horse  vainly  struggled  to  rise,  with  his  thigh-bone 
smashed  and  protruding. 

Now  I  lost  all  presence  of  mind  at  this,  for  I  loved  both 
those  good  horses,  and  shouting  for  any  to  follow  me, 
dashed  headlong  into  the  cavern.  Some  five  or  six  men 
came  after  me,  the  foremost  of  whom  was  Jeremy,  when  a 
storm  of  shot  whistled  and  pattered  around  me,  with  a 
blaze  of  light  and  a  thunderous  roar.  On  I  leaped  like  a 
madman,  and  pounced  on  one  gunner,  and  hurled  him 
across  his  culverin;  but  the  others  had  fled,  and  a  heavy 
oak  door  fell  to  with  a  bang  behind  them.  So  utterly  were 
my  senses  gone,  and  naught  but  strength  remaining,  that 
I  caught  up  the  cannon  with  both  hands,  and  dashed  it, 
breech-first,  at  the  door-way.  The  solid  oak  burst  with 
the  blow,  and  the  gun  stuck  fast,  like  a  builder's  putlog. 

But  here  I  looked  round  in  vain  for  any  to  come  and 
follow  up  my  success.  The  scanty  light  showed  me  no 
figure  moving  through  the  length  of  the  tunnel  behind 
me;  only  a  heavy  groan  or  two  went  to  my  heart,  and 
chilled  it.  So  I  hurried  back  to  seek  Jeremy,  fearing  that 
he  must  be  smitten  down. 

And  so  indeed  I  found  him,  as  well  as  three  other  poor 
fellows,  struck  by  the  charge  of  the  culverin,  which  had 
passed  so  close  beside  me.  Two  of  the  four  were  as  dead 
as  stones,  and  growing  cold  already,  but  Jeremy  and  the 
other  could  manage  to  groan  just  now  and  then.  So  I 
turned  my  attention  to  them,  and  thought  no  more  of 
fighting. 

Having  so  many  wounded  men,  and  so  many  dead  among 
us,  we  loitered  at  the  cavern's  mouth,  and  looked  at  one 
another,  wishing  only  for  somebody  to  come  and  take  com- 
mand of  us.  But  no  one  came;  and  I  was  grieved  so  much 
about  poor  Jeremy,  besides  being  wholly  unused  to  any  vio- 
lence of  bloodshed,  that  I  could  only  keep  his  head  up, 
and  try  to  stop  him  from  bleeding.  And  he  looked  up  at 
me  pitifully,  being  perhaps  in  a  haze  of  thought,  as  a  calf 
looks  at  a  butcher. 

The  shot  had  taken  him  in  the  mouth;  about  that  no 
doubt  could  be,  for  two  of  his  teeth  were  in  his  beard,  and 
one  of  his  lips  was  wanting.     I  laid  his  shattered  face  on 


MUTUAL  DISCOMMTURB.  479 

my  breast,  and  nursed  him  as  a  woman  might.  But  he 
looked  at  me  with  a  jerk  at  this;  and  I  saw  that  he  wanted 
coolness. 

While  here  we  stand,  quite  out  of  danger  (for  the  fellows 
from  the  gallery  could  by  no  means  shoot  us,  even  if  they 
remained  there,  and  the  oaken  door  whence  the  others  fled 
was  blocked  up  by  the  culverin),  a  boy  who  had  no  busi- 
ness there  (being  in  fact  our  clerk's  apprentice  to  the  art 
of  shoe-making)  came  round  the  corner  upon  us  in  the 
manner  which  boys,  and  only  boys,  can  use  with  grace  and 
freedom;  that  is  to  say,  with  a  sudden  rush,  and  a  sidelong 
step,  and  an  impudence. 

''  Got  the  worst  of  it!"  cried  the  boy;  ''  better  be  off,  all 
of  you.  Zomerzett  and  Devon  a-vighting;  and  theDoones 
have  drashed  'em  both.  Maister  Eidd,  even  thee  be 
drashed." 

We  few,  who  yet  remained  of  the  force  which  was  to 
have  won  the  Doone-gate,  gazed  at  one  another  like  so 
many  fools,  and  nothing  more.  For  we  still  had  some 
faint  hopes  of  winning  the  day,  and  recovering  our  reputa- 
tion, by  means  of  what  the  other  men  might  have  done 
without  us.  And  we  could  not  understand  at  all  how 
Devonshire  and  Somerset,  being  embarked  in  the  same 
cause,  should  be  fighting  with  one  another. 

Finding  nothing  more  to  be  done  in  the  way  of  carrying 
on  the  war,  we  laid  poor  Master  Stickles  and  two  more  of 
the  wounded  upon  the  carriage  of  bark  and  hurdles, 
whereon  our  gun  had  lain,  and  we  rolled  the  gun  into  the 
river,  and  harnessed  the  horses  yet  alive,  and  put  the 
others  out  of  their  pain,  and  sadly  wended  homeward,  feel- 
ing ourselves  to  be  thoroughly  beaten,  yet  ready  to  main- 
tain that  it  was  no  fault  of  ours  whatever.  And  in  this 
opinion  the  women  joined,  being  only  too  glad  and  thank- 
ful to  see  us  come  home  alive  again. 

Now,  this  enterprise  having  failed  so,  I  prefer  not  to 
dwell  too  long  upon  it,  only  just  to  show  the  mischief 
which  lay  at  the  root  of  the  failure.  And  this  mischief 
was  the  vile  jealousy  between  red  and  yellow  uniform. 
Now  I  try  to  speak  impartially,  belonging  no  more  to 
Somerset  than  I  do  to  Devonshire,  living  upon  the  borders, 
and  born  of  either  county.  The  tale  was  told  me  by  one 
side  first,  and  then  quite  to  a  different  tune  by  the  other, 


480  LORNA  BOONE. 

and  then  by  both  together,  with  very  hot  words  of  reviling, 
and  a  desire  to  fight  it  out  again.  And  putting  this  with 
that,  the  truth  appears  to  be  as  follows: 

The  men  of  Devon,  who  bore  red  facings,  had  a  long 
way  to  go  round  the  hills  before  they  could  get  into  due 
position  on  the  western  side  of  the  Doone  Glen.  And 
knowing  that  their  cousins  in  yellow  would  claim  the  whole 
of  the  glory  if  allowed  to  be  first  with  the  firing,  these 
worthy  fellows  waited  not  to  take  good  aim  with  their 
cannon,  seeing  the  others  about  to  shoot,  but  fettled  it 
anyhow  on  the  slope,  pointing  in  a  general  direction;  and 
trusting  in  God  for  aimworthiness,  laid  the  rope  to  the 
breech,  and  fired.  Now,  as  Providence  ordained  it,  the 
shot,  which  was  a  casual  mixture  of  any  thing  considered 
hard — for  instance,  jug-bottoms  and  knobs  of  doors — the 
whole  of  this  pernicious  dose  came  scattering  and  shatter- 
ing among  the  unfortunate  yellow  men  upon  the  opposite 
clilf,  killing  one  and  wounding  two. 

Now  what  did  the  men  of  Somerset  do  but,  instead  of 
waiting  for  their  friends  to  send  round  and  beg  pardon, 
train  their  gun  full  mouth  upon  them,  and  with  a  vicious 
meaning  shoot?  Nor  only  this,  but  ihey  loudly  cheered 
when  they  saw  four  or  five  redcoats  lie  low;  for  which 
savage  feeling  not  even  the  remarks  of  the  Devonshire  men 
concerning  their  coats  could  entirely  excuse  them.  Now 
I  need  not  tell  the  rest  of  it,  for  the  tale  makes  a  man  dis- 
contented. Enough  that  both  sides  waxed  hotter  and 
hotter  with  the  fire  of  destruction.  And  but  that  the 
gorge  of  the  cliffs  lay  between,  very  few  would  have  lived 
to  tell  of  it;  for  our  Western  blood  becomes  stiff  and  firm 
when  churned  with  the  sense  of  wrong  in  it. 

At  last  the  Doones  (who  must  have  laughed  at  the 
thunder  passing  overhead),  recalling  their  men  from  the 
gallery,  issued  out  of  Gwenny's  gate  (Avhich  had  been 
wholly  overlooked)  and  fell  on  the  rear  of  the  Somerset 
men,  and  slew  four  beside  their  cannon.  Then,  while  the 
survivors  ran  away,  the  outlaws  took  the  hot  culverin,  and 
rolled  it  down  into  their  valley.  Thus,  of  the  three  guns 
set  forth  that  morning,  only  one  ever  came  home  again, 
and  that  was  the  gun  of  the  Devonshire  men,  who  dragged 
it  home  themselves,  with  the  view  of  making  a  boast 
about  it. 


MUTUAL  DlSGOMmTURE.  481 

This  was  a  melancholy  end  of  our  brave  setting  out;  and 
everybody  blamed  every  one  else,  and  several  of  us  wanted 
to  have  the  whole  thing  over  again,  as  then  we  must  have 
righted  it.  But  upon  one  point  all  agreed,  by  some  reason- 
ing not  clear  to  me,  that  the  root  of  the  evil  was  to  be 
found  in  the  way  Parson  Bowden  went  up  the  hill  with  his 
hat  on^  and  no  cassock. 


482  LOBNA  DOONB. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

GETTING   INTO   CHANCERY. 

Two  OF  the  Devonshire  officers  (Captains  Pyke  and 
Dalian)  now  took  command  of  the  men  who  were  left,  and 
ordered  all  to  go  home  again,  commending  much  the 
bravery  which  had  been  displayed  on  all  sides,  and  the 
loyalty  to  the  King,  and  the  English  constitution.  This 
last  word  always  seems  to  me  to  settle  everything  when 
said,  because  nobody  understands  it,  and  yet  all  can  puzzle 
their  neighbors.  So  the  Devonshire  men,  having  beans  to 
sow  (which  they  ought  to  have  done  on  Good  Friday), 
went  home,  and  our  Somerset  friends  only  stayed  for  two 
days  more  to  backbite  them. 

To  me  the  whole  thing  was  purely  grievous;  not  from 
any  sense  of  defeat  (though  that  was  bad  enough),  but 
from  the  pain  and  anquish  caused  by  death,  and  wounds, 
and  mourning.  "  Surely  we  have  woes  enough,''  I  used  to 
think  of  an  evening,  when  the  poor  fellows  could  not  sleep, 
or  rest,  or  let  others  rest  around  them;  "surely  all  this 
smell  of  wounds  is  not  incense  men  should  pay  to  the  God 
who  made  them.  Death,  when  it  comes  and  is  done  with, 
may  be  a  bliss  to  any  one;  but  the  doubt  of  life  or  death, 
when  a  man  lies,  as  it  were,  like  a  trunk  upon  the  saw-pit, 
and  a  grisly  head  looks  up  at  him,  and  the  groans  of  pain 
are  cleaving  him,  this  would  be  beyond  all  bearing,  but  for 
Nature's  sap — sweet  hope." 

Jeremy  Stickles  lay  and  tossed,  and  thrust  up  his  feet  in 
agony,  and  bit  with  his  lipless  mouth  the  clothes,  and  was 
proud  to  see  blood  upon  them.  He  looked  at  us  ever  so 
many  times,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Fools,  let  me  die;  then  I 
shall  have  some  comfort;"  but  we  nodded  at  him  sagely, 
especially  the  women,  trying  to  convey  to  him  on  no  ac- 
count to  die  yet.  And  then  we  talked  to  one  another  (on 
purpose  for  him  to  hear  us)  how  brave  he  was,  and  not  the 


OETTINO  INTO  CHANCERY.  483 

man  to  knock  under  in  a  hurry,  and  how  he  should  have 
the  victory  yet,  and  how  well  he  looked,  considering. 

These  things  cheered  him  a  little  now,  and  a  little  more 
next  time;  and  every  time  we  went  on  so,  he  took  it  with 
less  impatience.  Then  once  when  he  had  been  very  quiet, 
and  not  even  tried  to  frown  at  us,  Annie  leaned  over  and 
kissed  his  forehead,  and  spread  the  pillows  and  sheet,  with 
a  curve  as  delicate  as  his  own  white  ears;  and  then  he 
feebly  lifted  hands,  and  prayed  to  God  to  bless  her.  And 
after  that  he  came  round  gently,  though  never  to  the  man 
he  had  been,  and  never  to  speak  loud  again. 

For  a  time  (as  I  may  have  implied  before)  Master 
Stickles'  authority,  and  manner  of  levying  duties,  had 
not  been  taken  kindly  by  the  people  round  our  neighbor- 
hood. The  manors  of  East  Lynn  and  West  Lynn,  and 
even  that  of  Woolhanger — although  iust  then  all  three 
were  at  issue  about  some  rights  of  wreck,  and  the  hanging 
of  a  sheep-stealer  (a  man  of  no  great  eminence,  yet  claimed 
by  each,  for  the  sake  of  his  clothes) — these  three,  having 
their  rights  impugned,  or  even  superseded,  as  they 
declared,  by  the  quartering  of  soldiers  in  their  neighbor- 
hood, united  very  kindly  to  oppose  the  King's  Commis- 
sioner. However,  Jeremy  had  contrived  to  conciliate  the 
whole  of  them,  not  so  much  by  anything  engaging  in  his 
deportment,  or  delicate  address,  as  by  holding  out  bright 
hopes  that  the  plunder  of  the  Doone  Glen  might  become 
divisible  among  the  adjoining  manors.  IS'ow  I  have  never 
discovered  a  thing  which  the  lords  of  manors  (at  least  in 
our  part  of  the  world)  do  not  believe  to  belong  to  them- 
selves, if  only  they  could  get  their  rights.  And  it  did 
seem  natural  enough  that  if  the  Doones  were  ousted,  and 
a  nice  collection  of  prey  remained,  this  should  be  parted 
among  the  people  having  elder  rights  of  plunder.  Kever- 
theless.  Master  Jeremy  knew  that  the  soldiers  would  have 
the  first  of  it,  and  the  King  what  they  coufd  not  carry. 

And  perhaps  he  was  punished  justly  for  language  so 
misleading,  by  the  general  indignation  of  the  people  all 
around  us,  not  at  his  failure,  but  at  himself,  for  that  which 
he  could  in  nowise  prevent.  And  the  stewards  of  the 
manors  rode  up  to  our  house  on  purpose  to  reproach  him, 
and  were  greatly  vexed  with  all  of  us,  because  he  was  too  ill 
to  see  them. 


484  LORNA  BOONE. 

To  myself  (though  by  rights  the  last  to  be  thought  of 
among  so  much  pain  and  trouble)  Jeremy's  wound  was  a 
great  misfortune  in  more  ways  than  one.  In  the  first 
place,  it  deferred  my  chance  of  imparting  either  to  my 
mother  or  to  Mistress  Lorna  my  firm  belief  that  the  maid 
I  loved  was  not  sprung  from  the  race  which  had  slain  my 
father,  neither  could  he  in  any  way  have  offended  against 
her  family.  And  this  discovery  I  was  yearning  more  and 
more  to  declare  to  them,  being  forced  to  see  (even  in  the 
midst  of  all  our  warlike  troubles)  that  a  certain  difference 
was  growing  betwixt  them  both,  and  betwixt  them  and 
me.  For  although  the  words  of  the  Counselor  had  seemed 
to  fail  among  us,  being  bravely  met  and  scattered,  yet  our 
courage  was  but  as  wind  flinging  wide  the  tare-seeds,  when 
the  sower  casts  them  from  his  bag.  The  crop  may  not 
come  evenly,  many  places  may  long  lie  bare,  and  the  field 
be  all  in  patches;  yet  almost  every  vetch  will  spring,  and 
tiller  out,  and  stretch  across  the  scatterings  where  the  wind 
puffed. 

And  so  dear  mother  and  darling  Lorna  now  had  been 
for  many  a  day  thinking,  worrying,  and  wearing  about  the 
matter  between  us.  Neither  liked  to  look  at  the  other  as 
they  used  to  do,  with  mother  admiring  Lorna's  eyes,  and 
grace,  and  form  of  breeding,  and  Lorna  loving  mother's 
goodness,  softness  and  simplicity.  And  the  saddest  and 
most  hurtful  thing  was  that  neither  could  ask  the  other 
of  the  shadow  falling  between  them.  And  so  it  went  on, 
and  deepened. 

In  the  next  place.  Colonel  Stickles'  illness  was  a  griev- 
ous thing  to  us,  in  that  we  had  no  one  now  to  command 
the  troopers.  Ten  of  these  were  still  alive,  and  so  well 
approved  to  us,  that  they  could  never  fancy  aught, 
whether  for  dinner  or  supper,  without  its  being  forth- 
coming. If  they  wanted  trout,  they  should  have  it;  if 
colloped  venison,  or  broiled  ham,  or  salmon  from  Lyn- 
mouth  and  Trentisoe,  or  truffles  from  the  wood-side,  all 
these  were  at  the  warriors'  service  until  they  lusted  for 
something  else.  Even  the  wounded  men  ate  nobly;  all 
except  poor  Jeremy,  who  was  forced  to  have  a  young  elder- 
shoot,  with  the  pitch  drawn,  for  to  feed  him.  And  once 
when  they  wanted  pickled  loach  (from  my  description  of 
it),  I  took  up  my  boyish  sport  again,  and  pronged  them  a 


OETTINO  INTO  CHANG ERT.  485 

good  jarful.  Therefore  none  of  them  could  complain: 
and  yet  they  were  not  satisfied;  perhaps  for  want  of 
complaining. 

Be  that  as  it  might,  we  knew  that  if  they  once  resolved 
to  go  (as  they  might  do  at  any  time,  with  only  a  corporal 
over  them),  all  our  house,  and  all  our  goods,  ay,  and  our 
precious  lives,  would  and  must  be  at  the  mercy  of  embit- 
tered enemies.  For  now  the  Doones,  having  driven  back, 
as  every  one  said,  five  hundred  men — though  not  thirty 
had  ever  fought  with  them — were  in  such  feather  all  around 
the  country,  that  nothing  was  too  good  for  them.  Offer- 
ings poured  in  at  the  Doone-gate  faster  than  Doones  could 
away  with  them,  and  the  sympathy  both  of  Devon  and 
Somerset  became  almost  oppressive.  And  perhaps  this 
wealth  of  congratulation,  and  mutual  good  feeling  between 
plunderer  and  victim,  saved  us  from  any  piece  of  spite; 
kindliness  having  won  the  day,  and  every  one  loving  every 
one. 

But  yet  another  cause  arose,  and  this  the  strongest  one 
of  all,  to  prove  the  need  of  Stickles'  aid,  and  calamity  of 
hio  illness.  And  this  came  to  our  knowledge  first,  without 
much  time  to  think  of  it.  For  two  men  appeared  at  our 
gate  one  day,  stripped  to  their  shirts,  and  void  of  horses, 
and  looking  very  sorrowful.  Now,  having  some  fear  of 
attack  from  the  Doones,  and  scarce  knowing  what  their 
tricks  might  be,  we  received  these  strangers  cautiously,  de- 
siring to  know  who  they  were  before  we  let  them  see  all  our 
premises. 

However,  it  soon  became  plain  to  us  that  although  they 
might  not  be  honest  fellows,  at  any  rate  they  were  not 
Doones;  and  so  we  took  them  in,  and  fed,  and  left  them 
to  tell  their  business.  And  this  they  were  glad  to  do,  as 
men  who  have  been  maltreated  almost  always  are.  And  it 
was  not  for  us  to  contradict  them  lest  our  victuals  should 
go  amiss. 

These  two  very  worthy  fellows nay,  more  than  that 

by  their  own  account,  being  downright  martyrs — were  come, 
for  the  public  benefit,  from  the  Court  of  Chancery,  sitting 
for  everybody's  good,  and  boldly  redressing  evil.  Tliie 
Court  has  a  power  of  scent  unknown  to  the  common-la\^ 
practitioners,  and  slowly,  yet  surely,  tracks  its  game;  eveir 
as  the  great  lumbering  "dogs  now  introduced  from.  Spain, 


486  LORNA  BOONS, 

and  called  by  some  people  '' pointers,"  differ  from  the  swift 
gaze-hound,  who  sees  his  prey  and  runs  him  down,  in  the 
manner  of  common  lawyers.  If  a  man's  ill  fate  should 
drive  him  to  make  choice  between  these  two,  let  him  rather 
be  chased  by  the  hounds  of  law,  than  tracked  by  the  dogs  of 
Equity. 

Now,  as  it  fell  in  a  very  black  day  (for  all  except  the 
lawyers).  His  Majesty's  Court  of  Chancery,  if  that  be  what 
it  called  itself,  gained  scent  of  poor  Lorna's  life,  and  of  all 
that  might  be  made  of  it.  Whether  through  that  brave 
young  lord  who  ran  into  such  peril,  or  through  any  of  his 
friends;  or  whether  through  that  deep  old  Counselor,  whose 
game  none  might  penetrate;  or  through  any  disclosures 
of  the  Italian  woman,  or  even  of  Jeremy  himself;  none 
just  now  could  tell  us:  only  this  truth  was  too  clear — 
Chancery  had  heard  of  Lorna,  and  then  had  seen  how  rich 
she  was;  and  never  delaying  in  one  thing,  had  opened 
mouth,  and  swallowed  her. 

The  Doones,  with  a  share  of  that  dry  humor  which  was 
in  them  hereditary,  had  welcomed  the  two  apparitors  (if 
that  be  the  proper  name  for  them)  and  led  them  kindly 
down  the  valley,  and  told  them  then  to  serve  their  writ. 
Misliking  the  look  of  things,  these  poor  men  began  to 
fumble  among  their  clothes;  upon  which  the  Doones  cried, 
*' Off  with  them!  Let  us  see  if  your  message  be  on  your 
skins."  And  with  no  more  manners  than  that,  they  strip- 
ped and  lashed  them  out  of  the  valley,  only  bidding  them 
come  to  us,  if  they  wanted  Lorna  Doone;  and  to  us  they 
came  accordingly.  Neither  were  they  sure  at  first  but 
that  we  should  treat  them  so;  for  they  had  no  knowledge 
of  west  country,  and  thought  it  quite  a  godless  place, 
wherein  no  writ  was  holy. 

We  however  comforted  and  cheered  them  so  consider- 
ably that,  in  gratitude,  they  showed  their  writs,  to  which 
they  had  stuck  like  leeciies.  And  these  were  twofold;  one 
addressed  to  Mistress  Lorna  Doone,  so  called,  and  bidding 
her  keep  in  readiness  to  travel  whenever  called  upon,; 
and  commit  herself  to  nobody,  except  the  accredited 
messengers  of  the  right  honorable  Court,  while  the  other 
was  addressed  to  all  subjects  of  His  Majesty,  having  custody 
of  Lorna  Doone,  or  any  power  over  her.  And  this  last 
both  threatened  and  exhorted,  and  held  out  hopes  of  rec^ 


GETTING  INTO  CHANCERY.  487 

ompense,  if  she  were  rendered  truly.  My  mother  and  I 
held  consultation  over  both  these  documents,  with  a  mix- 
ture of  some  wrath  and  fear,  and  a  fork  of  great  sorrow  to 
stir  them.  And  now  having  Jeremy  Stickles  leave,  which 
he  gave  with  a  nod  when  I  told  him  all,  and  at  last  made 
him  understand  it,  I  laid  bare  to  my  mother  as  well  what 
I  knew  as  what  I  merely  surmised  or  guessed,  concerning 
Lorna's  parentage.  All  this  she  received  with  great  tears, 
and  wonder,  and  fervent  thanks  to  God,  and  still  more 
fervent  praise  of  her  son,  who  had  nothing  whatever  to  do 
with  it.  However,  now  the  question  was,  how  to  act  about 
these  writs.  And  herein  it  was  most  unlucky  that  we 
could  not  have  Master  Stickles,  with  his  knowledge  of  the 
world,  and  especially  of  the  law  courts,  to  advise  us  what 
to  do,  and  to  help  in  doing  it.  And  firstly,  of  the  first  I 
said,  "We  have  rogues  to  deal  with:  but  try  we  not  to 
rogue  them.'' 

To  this,  in  some  measure,  dear  mother  agreed,  though 
she  could  not  see  the  justice  of  it,  yet  thought  that  it 
might  be  wiser,  because  of  our  want  of  practice.  And 
then  I  said,  ''Now,  we  are  bound  to  tell  Lorna,  and  to 
serve  her  citation  upon  her,  which  these  good  fellows  have 
given  us.'* 

"  Then  go  and  do  it  thyself,  my  son,"  mother  replied, 
with  a  mournful  smile,  misdoubting  what  the  end  might 
be.  So  I  took  the  slip  of  brown  parchment,  and  went  to 
seek  my  darling. 

Lorna  was  in  her  favorite  place,  the  little  garden  which 
she  tended  with  such  care  and  diligence.  Seeing  how  the 
maiden  loved  it,  and  was  happy  there,  I  had  labored  hard 
to  fence  it  from  the  dangers  of  the  wood.  And  here  she 
had  corrected  me,  with  better  taste,  and  sense  of  pleasure, 
and  the  joys  of  musing.  For  I  meant  to  shut  out  the 
brook,  and  build  my  fence  inside  of  it;  but  Lorna  said  no; 
if  we  must  have  a  fence,  which  could  not  but  be  injury,  at 
any  rate  leave  the  stream  inside,  and  a  pleasant  bank 
beyond  it.  And  soon  I  perceived  that  she  was  right, 
though  not  so  much  as  afterward;  for  the  fairest  of  all 
things  in  a  garden,  and  in  summer-time  most  useful,  is  a 
brook  of  crystal  water;  where  a  man  may  come  and  medi- 
tate, and  the  flowers  may  lean  and  see  themselves,  and  the 
rays  of  the  sun  are  purified.     Now  partly  with  her  own 


488  LORNA  DOONE, 

white  hands,  and  partly  with  Gwenny's  red  ones,  Lorna 
had  made  of  this  sunny  spot  a  haven  of  beauty  to  dwell  in. 
It  was  not  only  that  colors  lay  in  the  harmony  we  would 
seek  of  them;  neither  was  it  the  height  of  plants,  sloping 
to  one  another;  nor  even  the  delicate  tone  of  foliage  follow- 
ing suit,  and  neighboring.  Even  the  breathing  of  the 
wind,  soft  and  gentle  in  and  out,  moving  things  that  need 
not  move,  and  passing  longer-stalked  ones,  even  this  was 
not  enough,  among  the  flush  of  fragrance,  to  tell  a  man 
the  reason  of  his  quiet  satisfaction.  But  so  it  shall  forever 
be.  As  the  river  we  float  upon  (with  wine,  and  flowers, 
and  music)  is  nothing  at  the  well-spring  but  a  bubble 
without  reason. 

Feeling  many  things,  but  thinking,  without  much  to 
guide  me  over  the  grass-plats  laid  between,  I  went  up  to 
Lorna.  She  in  a  shower  of  damask  roses,  raised  her  eyes, 
and  looked  at  me.  And  even  now  in  those  sweet  eyes,  so 
deep  with  loving  kindness,  and  soft  maiden  dreamings, 
there  seemed  to  be  a  slight  unwilling,  half -confessed  with- 
drawal; overcome  by  love  and  duty,  yet  a  painful  thing  to 
see. 

*' Darling,"  I  said,  ''are  your  spirits  good?  Are  you 
strong  enough  to-day  to  bear  a  tale  of  cruel  sorrow,  but 
which  perhaps,  when  your  tears  are  shed,  will  leave  you 
all  the  happier?" 

'*  What  can  you  mean?"  she  answered,  trembling,  not 
having  been  very  strong  of  late,  and  now  surprised  at  my 
manner:  "are  you  come  to  give  me  up,  John?" 

*'  Not  very  likely,"  I  replied;  ''  neither  do  I  hope  such  a 
thing  would  leave  you  all  the  happier.  Oh,  Lorna,  if  you 
can  think  that  so  quickly  as  you  seem  to  have  done,  now 
vou  have  every  prospect,  and  strong  temptation  to  it. 
You  are  far,  far  above  me  in  the  world,  and  I  have  no 
right  to  claim  you.  Perhaps,  when  you  have  heard  these 
tidings,  you  will  say,  'John  Ridd,  begone;  your  life  and 
mine  are  parted.^" 

"Will  I?"  cried  Lorna,  with  all  the  brightness  of  her 
playful  ways  returning:  "you  very  foolish  and  jealous 
John,  how  shall  I  punish  you  for  this?  Am  I  to  forsake 
every  flower  I  have,  and  not  even  know  that  the  world  goes 
round,  while  I  look  up  at  you  the  whole  day  long,  and  say, 
^  John,  I  love,  love,  love  you?'" 


OETTINO  INTO  CHANCERY.  489 

During  these  words,  she  leaned  upon  me,  half  in  gay 
imitation  of  what  I  so  often  made  her  do,  and  half  in  depth 
of  earnestness,  as  the  thrice  repeated  word  grew  stronger, 
and  grew  warmer,  with  and  to  her  heart.  And  as  she 
looked  up  at  the  finish,  saying  "you  "  so  musically,  I  was 
much  inclined  to  clasp  her  round;  but  remembering  who 
she  was,  forbore;  at  which  she  seemed  surprised  with  me. 

"  Mistress  Lorna,^'  I  replied,  with  I  know  not  what 
temptation,  making  little  of  her  caresses,  though  more 
than  all  my  heart  to  me,  "  Mistress  Lorna,  you  must  keep 
your  rank,  and  proper  dignity.  You  must  never  look  at 
me  with  anything  but  pity  now.^* 

"  I  shall  look  at  you  with  pity,  John,"  said  Lorna,  trying 
to  laugh  it  off,  yet  not  knowing  what  to  make  of  me,  "if 
you  talk  any  more  of  this  nonsense,  knowing  me  as  you 
ought  to  do,  I  shall  even  begin  to  think  that  you  and 
your  friends  are  weary  of  me,  and  of  so  long  supporting 
me,  and  are  only  seeking  cause  to  send  me  back  to  my  old 
misery.  If  it  be  so,  I  will  go.  My  life  matters  little  to 
any  one.''  Here  the  great  bright  tears  arose;  but  the 
maiden  was  too  proud  to  sob. 

"  Sweetest  of  all  sweet  loves,"  I  cried,  for  the  sign  of  a 
tear  defeated  me,  "  what  possibility  could  make  me  ever 
give  up,  Lorna?" 

"  Dearest  of  all  dears,"  she  answered,  "  if  you  dearly 
love  me,  what  possibility  could  make  me  ever  give  you  up, 
dear?" 

Upon  that  there  was  no  more  forbearing,  but  I  kissed 
and  clasped  her,  whether  she  were  Countess,  or  whether 
Queen  of  England;  mine  she  was,  at  least  in  heart,  and 
mine  she  should  be  wholly.  And  she  being  of  the  same 
opinion,  nothing  was  said  between  us. 

"Now,  Lorna,"  said  I,  as  she  hung  on  my  arm,  willing 
to  trust  me  anywhere,  "come  to  your  little  plant-house, 
and  hear  my  moving  story." 

"  No  story  can  move  me  much,  dear,"  she  answered, 
rather  faintly,  for  any  excitement  stayed  with  her;  "since 
I  know  your  strength  of  kindness,  scarcely  any  tale  can 
move  me,  unless  it  be  of  yourself,  love,  or  of  my  poor 
mother." 

"  It  is  of  your  poor  mother,  darling.  Can  you  bear  to 
hear  it?"  And  yet  I  wondered  why  she  did  not  say  as 
3iuch  of  her  father. 


490  LORNA  BOONE. 

''  Yes,  I  can  hear  anything.  But  although  I  cannot  see 
her,  and  have  long  forgotten,  I  could  not  bear  to  hear  ill 
of  her." 

'*  There  is  no  ill  to  hear,  sweet  child,  except  of  evil  done 
to  her.     Lorna,  you  are  of  an  ill-starred  race." 

"  Better  that  than  a  wicked  race,"  she  answered,  with 
her  usual  quickness,  leaping  at  conclusion:  "tell  me  I  am 
not  a  Doone,  and  I  will — but  I  cannot  love  you  more. '' 

"  You  are  not  a  Doone,  my  Lorna;  for  that,  at  least,  I 
can  answer,  though  I  know  not  what  your  name  is." 

*'  And  my  father — your  father — what  I  mean  is " 

"■  Your  father  and  mine  never  met  one  another.  Your 
father  was  killed  by  an  accident  in  the  Pyrenean  mount- 
ains, and  your  mother  by  the  Doones;  or  at  least  they 
caused  her  death,  and  carried  you  away  from  her." 

All  this,  coming  as  in  one  breath  upon  the  sensitive 
maiden,  was  more  than  she  could  bear  all  at  once;  as  any 
but  a  fool  like  me  must  of  course  have  known.  She  lay 
back  on  the  garden  bench,  with  her  black  hair  shed  on  the 
oaken  bark,  while  her  color  went  and  came:  and  only  by 
that,  and  her  quivering  breast,  could  any  one  say  that  she 
lived  and  thought.  And  yet  she  pressed  my  hand  with 
hers,  that  now  I  might  tell  her  all  of  it. 


JOHN  BECOMES  TOO  POPULAB.  491 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

JOHN   BECOMES  TOO   POPULAR. 

No  FLOWER  that  I  have  ever  seen,  either  in  shifting  of 
light  and  shade,  or  in  the  pearly  morning,  may  vie  with  a 
fair  young  woman's  face  when  tender  thought  and  quick 
emotion  vary,  enrich,  and  beautify  it.  Thus  my  Lorna 
hearkened  softly,  almost  without  word  or  gesture,  yet  with 
sighs  and  glances  telling,  and  the  pressure  of  my  hand, 
how  each  word  was  moving  her. 

When  at  last  my  tale  was  done,  she  turned  awa}^  and 
wept  bitterly  for  the  sad  fate  of  her  parents.  But,  to  my 
surprise,  she  spoke  not  even  a  word  of  wrath  or  rancor. 
She  seemed  to  take  it  all  as  fate. 

'*  Lorna,  darling, '*  I  said  at  length,  for  men  are  mo  i 
impatient  in  trials  of  time  than  women  are,  *'do  you  u. ; 
even  wish  to  know  what  your  proper  name  is?" 

"How  can  it  matter  to  me,  John?"  she  answered,  with 
a  depth  of  grief  which  made  me  seem  a  trifler.  "  It  can 
never  matter  now,  when  there  are  none  to  share  it." 

"Poor  little  soul!"  was  all  I  said,  in  a  tone  of  purest 
pity;  and  to  my  surprise  she  turned  upon  me,  caught  me 
in  her  arms,  and  loved  me  as  she  never  had  done  before. 

"Dearest,  I  have  you,"  she  cried;  "you,  and  only  you, 
love.  Having  you,  I  want  no  other.  All  my  life  is  one 
with  yours.     Oh,  John,  how  can  I  treat  you  so?" 

Blushing  through  the  wet  of  weeping,  and  the  gloom  of 
pondering,  yet  she  would  not  hide  her  eyes,  but  folded  me, 
and  dwelt  on  me. 

"  I  cannot  believe,  in  the  pride  of  my  joy,"  I  whispered 
into  one  little  ear,  "that  you  could  ever  so  love  me, 
beauty,  as  to  give  up  the  world  for  me." 

"  Would  you  give  up  your  farm  for  me,  John?"  cried 
Lorna,  leaping  back  and  looking,  with  her  wondrous 
power  of  light,  at  me;  "  would  you  give  up  your  mother, 


492  LonisfA  moNs. 

your  sisters,  your  home,  and  all  that  you  have  in  the 
world,  and  every  hope  of  your  life,  John?'* 

'*  Of  course  I  would.  Without  two  thoughts.  You 
know  it;  you  know  it,  Lorna." 

*'It  is  true  that  I  do,"  she  answered,  in  a  tone  of  deep- 
est sadness;  *'  and  it  is  this  power  of  your  love  which  has 
made  me  love  you  so.  No  good  can  come  of  it;  no  good. 
God's  face  is  set  against  selfishness." 

As  she  spoke  in  that  low  tone,  I  gazed  at  the  clear  lines 
of  her  face  (where  every  curve  was  perfect),  not  with  love 
and  wonder  only,  but  with  a  strange  new  sense  of  awe. 

'*  Darling,"  I  said,  *'  come  nearer  to  me.  Give  me 
surety  against  that.  For  God's  sake  never  frighten  me 
with  the  thought  that  He  would  part  us." 

"Does  it,  then,  so  frighten  you?"  she  whispered,  coming 
close  to  me;  "  I  know  it,  dear;  I  have  known  it  long;  but 
it  never  frightens  me.  It  makes  me  sad,  and  very  lonely, 
till  I  can  remember!" 

" Till  you  can  remember  what?"  I  asked,  with  a  long, 
deep  shudder;  for  we  are  so  superstitious. 

"Until  I  do  remember,  love,  that  you  will  soon  come 
back  to  me,  and  be  my  own  forever.  This  is  what  I  always 
think  of;  this  is  what  I  hope  for." 

Although  her  eyes  were  so  glorious,  and  beaming  with 
eternity,  this  distant  sort  of  beatitude  was  not  much  to  my 
liking.  I  wanted  to  have  my  love  on  earth,  and  my  dear 
wife  in  my  own  home,  and  children  in  good  time,  if  God 
should  please  to  send  us  any.  And  then  I  would  be  to 
them  exactly  what  my  father  was  to  me.  And  besides  all 
this,  I  doubted  much  about  being  fit  for  heaven,  where  no 
plows  are,  and  no  cattle,  unless  sacrificed  bulls  went  thither. 

Therefore  I  said,  "Now  kiss  me,  Lorna,  and  don't  talk 
any  nonsense."  And  the  darling  came  and  did  it,  being 
kindly  obedient,  as  the  other  world  often  makes  us. 

"  xou  sweet  love,"  I  said  at  this,  being  slave  to  her  soft 
obedience,  "  do  you  suppose  I  should  be  content  to  leave 
you  until  Elysium?" 

"  How  on  earth  can  I  tell,  dear  John,  what  you  will  be 
content  with?" 

"You,  and  only  you,"  said  T;  "the  whole  of  it  lies  in  a 
syllable.  Now  you  know  my  entire  want,  and  want  must 
be  my  comfort." 


JOEN  BECOMES  TOO  POPULAR.  493 

"  But  surely  if  I  have  money,  sir,  and  birth,  and  rank, 
and  all  sorts  of  grandeur,  you  would  never  dare  to  think  of 
me/' 

She  drew  herself  up  with  an  air  of  pride,  as  she  gravely 
pronounced  these  words,  and  gave  me  a  scornful  glance,  or 
tried;  and  turned  away  as  if  to  enter  some  grand  coach  or 
palace;  while  I  was  so  amazed  and  grieved  in  my  raw 
simplicity,  especially  after  the  way  in  which  she  had  first 
received  my  news  (so  loving  and  warm-hearted),  that  I 
never  said  a  word,  but  stared  and  thought,  "How  does 
she  mean  it?" 

She  saw  the  pain  upon  my  forehead,  and  the  wonder  in 
my  eyes;  and  leaving  coach  and  palace  too,  back  she  flew 
to  me  in  a  moment,  as  simple  as  simplest  milkmaid. 

'^  Oh  you  fearfully  stupid  John — you  inexpressibly  stupid 
John,"  she  cried,  with  both  arms  round  my  neck,  and  her 
lips  upon  my  forehead;  *'you  have  called  yourself  thick- 
headed, John,  and  I  never  would  believe  it.  But  now  I  do 
with  all  my  heart.     Will  you  never  know  what  I  am,  love.^" 

"  No,  Lorna,  that  1  never  shall.  I  can  understand  my 
mother  well,  and  one,  at  least,  of  my  sisters,  and  both  the 
Snowe  girls  very  easily,  but  you  I  never  understand;  oul}* 
love  you  all  the  more  for  it." 

**  Then  never  try  to  understand  me,  if  the  result  is  that, 
dear  John.  And  yet  I  am  the  very  simplest  of  all  foolish, 
simple  creatures.  Nay,  I  am  wrong;  therein  I  yield  the 
palm  to  you,  my  dear.  To  think  that  I  can  act  so!  No 
wonder  they  want  me  in  London  as  an  ornament  for  the 
stage,  John." 

Now  in  after-days,  when  I  heard  of  Lorna  as  the  richest, 
and  noblest,  and  loveliest  lady  to  be  found  in  London,  I 
often  remembered  that  little  scene,  and  recalled  every  word 
and  gesture,  wondering  what  lay  under  it.  Even  now, 
while  it  was  quite  impossible  once  to  doubt  those  clear 
deep  eyes,  and  the  bright  lips  trembling  so;  nevertheless  I 
felt  how  much  the  world  would  have  to  do  with  it,  and 
that  the  best  and  truest  people  can  not  shake  themselves 
quite  free.  However,  for  the  moment,  I  was  very  proud, 
and  showed  it. 

And  herehi  differs  fact  from  fancy,  things  as  they  befall 
us  from  things  as  we  would  have  them,  human  ends  from 
human  hopes;  that  the  first  are  moved  by  a  thousand,  and 


404  LORNA  DOONE. 

the  last  on  two  wheels  only,  which  ^being  named)  are  desire 
and  fear.  Hope,  of  course,  is  nothing  more  than  desire 
with  a  telescope,  magnifying  distant  matters,  overlooking 
near  ones;  opening  one  eye  on  the  objects,  closing  tlie 
other  to  all  objections.  And  if  hope  be  the  future  tense  of 
desire,  the  future  of  fear  is  religion— at  least  with  too 
many  of  us. 

Whether  I  am  right  or  wrong  in  these  small  moralities, 
one  thing  is  sure  enough,  to-wit,  that  hope  is  the  fastest 
traveler,  at  any  rate  in  the  time  of  youth.  And  so  I  hoped 
that  Lorna  might  be  proved  of  blameless  family,  and  honor- 
able rank  and  fortune;  and  yet  none  the  less  for  that,  love 
me  and  belong  to  me.  So  I  led  her  into  the  house,  and 
she  fell  into  my  mother's  arms;  and  I  left  them  to  have  a 
good  cry  of  it,  with  Annie  ready  to  help  them. 

If  Master  Stickles  should  not  mend  enough  to  gain  his 
speech  a  little,  and  declare  to  us  all  he  knew,  I  was  to  set 
out  for  Watchett,  riding  upon  horseback,  and  there  to  hire 
a  cart  with  wheels,  such  as  we  had  not  begun  as  yet  to  use 
on  Exmoor.  For  all  our  work  went  on  broad  wood,  with 
runners  and  with  earth-boards;  and  many  of  us  still  looked 
upon  wheels  (though  mentioned  in  the  Bible)  as  the  in- 
vention of  the  evil  one,  and  Pharaoh's  especial  property. 

Now  instead  of  getting  better.  Colonel  Stickles  grew 
worse  and  worse,  in  spite  of  all  our  tendance  of  him,  with 
simples  and  with  nourishment,  and  no  poisonous  medi- 
cines, such  as  doctors  would  have  given  him.  And  the 
fault  of  this  lay  not  with  us,  but  purely  with  himself  and 
his  unquiet  constitution.  For  he  roused  himself  up  to  a 
perfect  fever  when,  through  Lizzie's  giddiness,  he  learned 
the  very  thing  which  mother  and  Annie  were  hiding  from 
him  with  the  utmost  care,  namely,  that  Sergeant  Bloxham 
had  taken  upon  himself  to  send  direct  to  London,  by  the 
Chancery  officers,  a  full  report  of  what  had  happened,  and  of 
the  illness  of  his  chief,  together  with  an  urgent  prayer  for 
a  full  battalion  of  King's  troops,  and  a  plenary  com- 
mander. 

This  Sergeant  Bloxham,  being  senior  of  the  surviving 
soldiers,  and  a  very  worthy  man  in  his  way,  but  a  trifle 
overzealous,  had  succeeded  to  the  captaincy  upon  his  mas- 
ter's disablement.  Then,  with  desire  to  serve  his  country 
and   show  his  education,  he  set  up  most  part  of  three 


JOHN  BECOMm  Too  POPULAU.  495 

nights,  and  wrote  this  wonderful  report  by  the  aid  of  our 
stable  lantern.  It  was  a  very  fine  piece  of  work,  as  three 
men  to  whom  he  read  it  (but  only  one  at  a  time)  pronounced, 
being  under  seal  of  secrecy.  And  all  might  have  gone 
well  with  it,  if  the  author  could  only  have  held  his  tongue 
when  near  the  ears  of  women.  But  this  was  beyond  his 
sense,  as  it  seems,  although  so  good  a  writer.  For  having 
heard  that  our  Lizzie  was  a  famous  judge  of  literature  (as 
indeed  she  told  almost  every  one),  he  could  not  contain 
himself,  but  must  have  her  opinion  upon  his  work. 

Lizzie  sat  on  a  log  of  wood,  and  listened  with  all  her 
ears  up,  having  made  proviso  that  no  one  else  should  be 
there  to  interrupt  her.  And  she  put  in  a  syllable  here  and 
there,  and  many  a  time  she  took  out  one  (for  the  sergeant 
overloaded  his  gun  more  often  than  undercharged  it,  like 
a  liberal  man  of  letters);  and  then  she  declared  the  result  so 
good,  and  the  style  to  be  so  elegant,  so  chaste,  and  yet  so 
fervent,  that  the  sergeant  broke  his  pipe  in  three,  and  fell 
in  love  with  her  on  the  spot.  Now  this  has  led  me  out  of 
my  way — as  things  are  always  doing,  partly  through  my 
own  perverseness,  partly  through  my  kind  desire  to  give 
fair  turn  to  all  oi  them,  and  to  all  the  people  who  do  them. 
If  any  one  expects  of  me  a  strict  and  well-drilled  story, 
standing  ^*at  attention"  all  the  time,  with  hands  at  the 
side  like  two  wens  on  my  trunk,  and  eyes  going  neither 
right  nor  left,  I  trow  that  man  has  been  disappointed  many 
a  page  ago,  and  has  left  me  to  my  evil  wap;  and  if  not,  I 
love  his  charity.  Therefore,  let  me  seek  his  grace,  and  get 
back,  and  just  begin  again. 

That  great  despatch  was  sent  to  London  by  the  Chan- 
cery officers,  whom  we  fitted  up  with  clothes,  and  for  three 
days  fattened  them;  which  in  strict  justice  they  needed 
much,  as  well  as  in  point  of  equity.  They  were  kind 
enough  to  be  pleased  with  us,  and  accepted  my  new  shirts 
generously;  and  urgent  as  their  business  was,  another  week 
(as  they  both  declared)  could  do  no  harm  to  nobody,  and 
might  set  them  upon  their  legs  again.  And  knowing, 
although  they  were  London  men,  that  fish  do  live  in 
water,  these  two  fellows  went  fishing  all  day,  but  never 
landed  anything.  However,  their  holiday  was  cut  short; 
for  the  sergeant,  having  finished  now  his  narrative  of  pro- 
ceedings, was  not  the  man  to  let  it  hang  fire,  and  be 
quenched  perhaps  by  Stickles. 


496  LOitNA  DOONE. 

Therefore,  having  done  their  business,  and  served  both 
citations,  these  two  good  men  had  a  pannier  of  victuals  put 
up  by  dear  Annie,  and  borrowing  two  of  our  horses,  rode 
to  Dunster,  where  they  left  them,  and  hired  on  toward 
London.  We  had  not  time  to  like  them  much,  and  so  we 
did  not  miss  them,  especially  in  our  great  anxiety  about 
poor  Master  Stickles. 

Jeremy  lay  between  life  and  death  for  at  least  a  fort- 
night. If  the  link  of  chain  had  flown  upward  (for  half  a 
link  of  chain  it  was  which  took  him  in  the  mouth  so),  even 
one  inch  upward,  the  poor  man  could  have  needed  no  one 
except  Parson  Bowden;  for  the  bottom  of  liis  skull,  which 
holds  the  brain  as  in  an  egg-cup,  must  have  clean  gone 
from  him.  But  striking  him  horizontally,  and  a  little  upon 
the  skew,  the  metal  came  out  at  the  back  of  his  neck,  and 
(the  powder  not  being  strong,  I  suppose)  it  lodged  in  his 
leather  collar. 

Now  the  rust  of  this  iron  hung  in  the  wound,  or  at  least 
we  thought  so;  though  since  I  have  talked  with  a  man  of 
medicine,  I  am  not  so  sure  of  it.  And  our  chief  aim  was 
to  purge  this  rust;  when  rather  we  should  have  stopped  the 
hole,  and  let  the  oxide  do  its  worst,  with  a  plug  of  new 
flesh  on  both  sides  of  it. 

At  last  1  prevailed  upon  him  by  argument  that  he  must 
get  better,  to  save  himself  from  being  ignobly  and  unjustly 
superseded;  and  hereupon  I  reviled  Sergeant  Bloxham  more 
fiercely  than  Jeremy's  self  could  have  done,  and  indeed  to 
such  a  pitch  that  Jeremy  almost  forgave  him,  and  became 
much  milder.  And  after  that  his  fever  and  the  inflam- 
mation of  his  wound  diminished  very  rapidly. 

However,  not  knowing  what  might  happen,  or  even  how 
soon  poor  Lorna  might  be  taken  from  our  power,  and,  fall- 
ing into  lawyers'  hands,  have  cause  to  wish  herself  most 
heartily  back  among  the  robbers,  I  set  forth  one  day  for 
Watchett,  taking  advantage  of  the  visit  of  some  troopers 
from  an  outpost,  who  would  make  our  house  quite  safe.  I 
rode  alone,  being  fully  primed,  and  having  no  misgivings. 
For  it  was  said  that  even  the  Doones  had  begun  to  fear  me, 
since  I  cast  their  culverin  through  the  door,  as  above  re- 
lated; and  they  could  not  but  believe,  from  my  being  still 
untouched  (although  so  large  an  object)  in  the  thickest  of 
their  fire,  Doth  of  gun  and   cannon,  that  I  must  bear  a 


JOHi^  BECOME  TOO  POPULAR,  40t 

charmed  life,  proof  against  ball  and  bullet.  However,  I 
knew  that  Carver  Doone  was  not  a  likely  man  to  hold  any 
superstitious  opinions;  and  of  him  I  had  an  instinctive 
dread,  although  quite  ready  to  face  him. 

Riding  along,  I  meditated  upon  Lorna's  history;  how 
many  things  were  now  beginning  to  unfold  themselves 
which  had  been  obscure  and  dark!  For  instance,  Sir  Ensor 
Doone's  consent,  or,  to  say  the  least,  his  indifference,  to  her 
marriage  with  a  yeoman;  which  in  a  man  so  proud  (though 
dying)  had  greatly  puzzled  both  of  us.  But  now,  if  she 
not  only  proved  to  be  no  grandchild  of  the  Doone,  but  even 
descended  from  his  enemy,  it  was  natural  enough  that  he 
should  feel  no  great  repugnance  to  her  humiliation.  And 
that  Lorna's  father  had  been  a  foe  to  the  house  of  Doone, 
I  gathered  from  her  mother's  cry  when  she  beheld  their 
leader.  Moreover  that  fact  would  supply  their  motive  in 
carrying  off  the  unfortunate  little  creature,  and  rearing  her 
among  them,  and  as  one  of  their  own  family,  yet  hiding 
her  true  birth  from  her.  She  was  a  **  great  card,"  as  we 
say,  when  playing  all-fours  at  Christmas-time;  and  if  one  of 
them  could  marry  her  before  she  learned  of  right  and  wrong, 
vast  property,  enough  to  buy  pardons  for  a  thousand 
Doones,  would  be  at  their  mercy.  And  since  I  was  come 
to  know  Lorna  better,  and  she  to  know  me  thoroughly — 
many  things  had  been  outspoken  which  lier  early  bashful- 
ness  had  kept  covered  from  me.  Attempts,  I  mean,  to 
pledge  her  love  to  this  one,  or  that  other;  some  of  which, 
perhaps,  might  have  been  successful,  if  there  had  not  been 
too  many. 

And  then,  as  her  beauty  grew  richer  and  brighter.  Carver 
Doone  was  smitten  strongly,  and  would  hear  of  no  one  else 
as  a  suitor  for  her,  and  by  the  terror  of  his  claim  drove  off 
all  the  others.  Here,  too,  lay  the  explanation  of  a  thing 
which  seemed  to  be  against  the  laws  of  human  nature,  and 
upon  which  I  longed,  but  dared  not,  to  cross-question 
Lorna.  How  could  such  a  lovely  girl,  although  so  young, 
and  brave,  and  distant,  have  escaped  the  vile  affections  of 
a  lawless  company? 

But  now  it  was  as  clear  as  need  be.  For  any  proven  vio- 
lence would  have  utterly  vitiated  all  claim  upon  her  grand 
estates;  at  least  as  those  claims  must  be  urged  before  a 
court  of  equity.    And  therefore  all  the  elders  (with  views 


49g  LOkNA  DOONE. 

upon  her  real  estate)  kept  strict  watch  on  the  youngers, 
wlio  coufined  their  views  to  her  personality. 

Now  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  all  this,  or  the  hundred 
other  things  which  came  crowding  consideration,  were  half 
as  plain  to  me  at  the  time  as  I  have  set  them  down  above. 
Far  be  it  from  me  to  deceive  you  so.  No  doubt  my  thoughts 
were  then  dark  and  hazy,  like  an  oil-lamp  full  of  fungus; 
and  I  have  trimmed  them,  as  when  they  burned,  with 
scissors  sharpened  long  afterward.  All  I  mean  to  say  is 
this,  tliat  jogging  along  to  a  certain  tune  of  the  horse's 
feet  which  we  call  *'  three  half-pence  and  two-pence,"  I  saw 
my  way  a  little  into  some  things  which  had  puzzled  me. 

When  I  knocked  at  the  little  door,  whose  sill  was  gritty 
and  grimed  with  sand,  no  one  came  for  a  very  long  time 
to  answer  me,  or  to  let  me  in.  Not  wishing  to  be  unman- 
nerly, I  waited  a  long  time,  and  watched  the  sea,  from 
which  the  wind  was  blowing,  and  whose  many  lips  of 
waves — though  the  tide  was  half-way  out — spoke  to  and 
refreshed  me.  After  a  while  I  knocked  again,  for  my  horse 
was  becoming  hungry;  and  a  good  while  after  that  again,  a 
voice  came  through  the  key-hole: 

"  Who  is  that  wishes  to  enter?" 

"  The  boy  who  was  at  the  pump,"  said  I,  "  when  the 
carriage  broke  down  at  Dulverton.  The  boy  that  lives  at 
Oh — ah;  and  some  day  you  would  come  seek  for  him." 

**  Oh  yes,  I  remember,  certainly.  My  leetle  boy  with 
the  fair  white  skin.  I  have  desired  to  see  him,  oh,  many, 
yes,  many  times." 

She  was  opening  the  door  while  saying  this,  and  then 
started  back  in  affright  that  the  little  boy  should  have 
grown  so. 

"  You  cannot  be  that  leetle  boy.  It  is  quite  impossible. 
Why  do  you  impose  on  me?" 

'*Not  only  am  I  that  little  boy  who  made  the  water  to 
flow  for  you  till  the  nebule  came  upon  the  glass,  but  also 
I  am  come  to  tell  you  all  about  your  little  girl." 

*'  Come  in,  you  very  great  leetle  boy,"  she  answered,  with 
her  dark  eyes  brightened.  And  I  went  in,  and  looked  at 
her.  She  was  altered  by  time  as  much  as  I  was.  The 
slight  and  graceful  shape  was  gone;  not  that  I  remembered 
anything  of  her  figure,  if  you  please,  for  boys  of  twelve 
are  not  yet  prone  to  note  the  shapes  of  women,  but  that 


JOHN  BECOMES  TOO  POPULAR.  499 

her  lithe  straight  gait  had  struck  me  as  being  so  unlike 
our  people.  Now  her  time  for  walking  so  was  past,  and 
transmitted  to  her  children.  Yet  her  face  was  comely 
still,  and  full  of  strong  intelligence.  I  gazed  at  her,  and 
she  at  me,  and  we  were  sure  of  one  another. 

"Now  what  will  ye  please  to  eat?"  she  asked,  with  a 
lively  glance  at  the  size  of  my  mouth:  **that  is  always  the 
first  thing  you  people  ask  in  these  barbarous  places." 

"  I  will  tell  you  by-and-by,"  I  answered,  misliking  this 
satire  upon  us,  **  but  I  might  begin  with  a  quart  of  ale,  to 
enable  me  to  speak,  madam." 

**  Very  well.  One  quevart  of  be-or,"  she  called  out  to  a 
little  maid,  who  was  her  eldest  child,  no  doubt.  **  It  is 
to  be  expected,  sir.  Be-or,  be-or,  be-or,  all  day  long,  with 
you  Englishmen! 

*'Nay,"  I  replied;  ''not  all  day  long,  if  madam  will 
excuse  me.  Only  a  pint  at  breakfast-time,  and  a  pint  and 
a  half  at  eleven  o'clock,  and  a  quart  or  so  at  dinner.  And 
then  no  more  till  the  afternoon;  and  half  a  gallon  at 
supper-time.     No  one  can  object  to  that." 

*'  Well,  I  suppose  it  is  right,"  she  said,  with  an  air  of 
resignation;  '*  God  knows.  But  I  do  not  understand  it. 
It  is  'good  for  business/  as  you  say,  to  preclude  every 
thing." 

"And  it  is  good  for  us,  madam,"  I  answered  with  indig- 
nation, for  beer  is  my  favorite  beverage;  "  and  I  am  a 
credit  to  beer,  madam;  and  so  are  all  who  trust  to  it." 

"  At  any  rate  you  are,  young  man.  If  beer  has  made 
you  grow  so  large,  I  will  put  my  children  upon  it;  it  is  too 
late  for  me  to  begin.     The  smell  to  me  is  hateful." 

Now  I  only  set  down  that  to  show  how  perverse  those 
foreign  people  are.  They  will  drink  their  wretched,  heart- 
less stuff,  such  as  they  call  claret,  or  wine  of  Medoc,  or 
Bordeaux,  or  what  not,  with  no  more  meaning  than  sour 
rennet,  stirred  with  the  pulp  from  the  cider-press,  and 
etrained  through  the  cap  of  our  Betty.  This  is  very 
v/ell  for  them,  and  as  good  as  they  deserve,  no  doubt,  and 
meant,  perhaps,  by  the  will  of  God  for  those  unhappy 
natives.  But  to  bring  it  over  to  England  and  set  it  against 
QUI  home-brewed  ale  (not  to  speak  of  wines  from  Portu- 
gal), and  sell  it  at  ten  times  the  price,  as  a  cure  for  British 
bile,  and  a  great  enlightenment,  this,  I  say,  is  the  vilest 
feature  of  the  age  we  live  in. 


500  LORNA  BOONE. 

Madam  Benita  Odam — for  the  name  of  the  man  who 
turned  the  wheel  proved  to  be  John  Odam — showed  me 
into  a  little  room  containing  two  chairs  and  a  fir-wood 
table,  and  sat  down  on  a  three-legged  seat  and  studied  me 
very  steadfastly.  This  she  had  a  right  to  do;  and  T, 
having  all  my  clothes  on  now,  was  not  disconcerted.  It 
would  not  become  me  to  repeat  her  judgment  upon.my  ap- 
pearance, which  she  delivered  as  calmly  as  if  I  were  a  pig 
at  market,  and  as  proudly  as  if  her  own  pig.  And  she 
asked  me  whether  I  had  ever  got  rid  of  the  black  marks  on 
my  breast. 

Not  wanting  to  talk  about  myself  (though  very  fond  of 
doing  so,  when  time  and  season  favor),  I  led  her  back  to 
that  fearful  night  of  the  day  when  first  I  had  seen  her. 
She  was  not  desirous  to  speak  of  it,  because  of  her  own 
little  children;  however,  I  drew  her  gradually  to  recollec- 
tion of  Lorna,  and  then  of  the  little  boy  who  died,  and  the 
poor  mother  buried  with  him.  And  her  strong,  hot  nature 
kindled,  as  she  dwelt  upon  these  things;  and  my  wrath 
waxed  within  me;  and  we  forgot  reserve  and  prudence 
under  the  sense  of  so  vile  a  wrong.  She  told  me  (as  nearly 
as  might  be)  the  very  same  story  which  she  had  told  to 
Master  Jeremy  Stickles;  only  she  dwelt  upon  it  more,  be- 
cause of  my  knowing  the  outset.  And  being  a  woman, 
with  an  inkling  of  my  situation,  she  enlarged  upon  the 
little  maid,  more  than  to  dry  Jeremy. 

"  Would  you  know  her  again?"  I  asked,  being  stirred  by 
these  accounts  of  Lorna  when  she  was  five  years  old; 
*'  would  you  know  her  as  a  full-grown  maiden?" 

**I  think  I  should,"  she  answered;  ''it  is  not  possible  to 
say  until  one  sees  the  person;  but  from  the  eyes  of  the  little 
girl,  I  think  that  I  must  know  her.  Oh,  the  poor  young 
creature!  Is  it  to  be  believed  that  the  cannibals  devoured 
her!  What  a  people  you  are  in  this  country!  Meat,  meat, 
meat!" 

As  she  raised  her  hands  and  eyes  in  horror  at  our  car- 
nivorous propensities,  to  which  she  clearly  attributed  the 
disappearance  of  Lorna,  I  could  scarce  help  laughing,  even 
after  that  sad  story.  For  though  it  is  said  at  the  present 
day,  and  will  doubtless  be  said  hereafter,  that  the  Doones 
had  devoured  a  baby  once,  as  they  came  up  Porlock  hill, 
after  fighting  hard  in  the  market-place.     I  knew  that  the 


:fOE:N  BECOMES  TOO  POPULAR.  501 

tale  was  utterly  false;  for,  cruel  and  brutal  as  they  were, 
their  taste  was  very  correct  and  choice,  and  indeed  one 
might  say  fastidious.  Nevertheless,  I  could  not  stop  to 
argue  that  matter  with  her. 

"  The  little  maid  has  not  been  devoured,^'  I  said  to  Mis- 
tress Odam;  **  and  now  she  is  a  tall  young  lady,  and  as 
beautiful  as  can  be.  If  I  sleep  in  your  good  hostel  to-night, 
after  going  to  Watchett  town,  will  you  come  with  me  to 
Oare  to-morrow,  and  see  your  little  maiden?" 

"I  would  like — and  yet  I  fear.  This  country  is  so  bar- 
barous. And  I  am  good  to  eat — my  God,  there  is  much 
picking  on  my  bones!" 

She  surveyed  herself  with  a  glance  so  mingled  of  pity 
and  admiration,  and  the  truth  of  her  words  were  so  ap- 
parent (only  that  it  would  have  taken  a  week  to  get  at  the 
bones  before  picking),  that  I  nearly  lost  good  manners;  for 
she  really  seemed  to  suspect  even  me  of  cannibal  inclina- 
tions. However,  at  last  I  made  her  promise  to  come  with 
me  on  the  morrow,  presuming  that  Master  Odam  could  by 
any  means  be  persuaded  to  keep  her  company  in  the  cart, 
as  propriety  demanded.  Having  little  doubt  that  Master 
Odam  was  entirely  at  his  wife's  command,  I  looked  upon 
that  matter  as  settled,  and  set  off  for  Watchett,  to  see  the 
grave  of  Lorna's  poor  mother,  and  to  hire  a  cart  for  the 
morrow. 

And  here  (as  so  often  happens  with  men)  I  succeeded 
without  any  trouble  or  hinderance,  where  I  had  looked  for 
both  of  them,  namely,  in  finding  a  suitable  cart;  whereas 
the  other  matter,  in  which  I  could  have  expected  no  diffi- 
culty, came  very  near  to  defeat  me.  For  when  I  heard 
that  Lorna's  father  was  the  Earl  of  Dugal — as  Benita  im- 
pressed upon  me  with  a  strong  enforcement,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "  Who  are  you,  young  man,  to  come  even  asking:  about 
her?" — then  I  never  though-t  but  that  everybody  in  Wachett 
town  must  know  all  about  the  tombstone  of  the  Countess 
of  Dugal. 

This,  however,  proved  otherwise.  For  Lord  Dugal  had 
never  lived  at  Watchett  Grange,  as  their  place  was  called, 
neither  had  his  name  become  familiar  as  its  owner.  Be- 
cause the  Grange  had  only  devolved  to  him  by  will,  at  the 
end  of  a  long  entail,  when  the  last  of  the  Fitz-Pains  died 
out;  and  though  he  liked  the  idea  of  it,  he  had  gone  abroad 


503  LORNA  DOONE. 

without  taking  seisin.  And  upon  news  of  his  death,  John 
Jones,  a  rich  gentleman  from  Landaff,  had  taken  possession, 
as  next  of  right,  and  hushed  up  all  the  story.  And  though, 
even  at  the  worst  of  times,  a  lady  of  high  rank  and  wealth 
could  not  be  robbed,  and  as  bad  as  murdered,  and  then 
buried  in  a  little  place,  without  moving  some  excitement, 
yet  it  had  been  given  out,  on  purpose  and  with  diligence, 
that  this  was  only  a  foreign  lady  traveling  for  her  health 
and  pleasure  along  the  sea-coast  of  England.  And  as  the 
poor  thing  never  spoke,  and  several  of  her  servants  and 
baggage  looked  so  foreign,  and  she  herself  died  in  a  collar 
of  lace  unlike  any  made  in  England,  all  Watchett,  without 
hesitation,  pronounced  her  to  be  a  foreigner.  And  the 
English  serving-man  and  maid,  who  might  have  cleared 
up  everything,  either  were  bribed  by  Master  Jones,  or  else 
decamped  of  their  own  accord  with  the  relics  of  the  baggage. 
So  the  poor  Countess  of  Dugal,  almost  in  sight  of  her  own 
grand  house,  was  buried  in  an  unknown  grave,  with  her 
pair  of  infants,  without  a  plate,  without  a  tombstone  (worse 
than  all),  without  a  tear,  except  from  the  hired  Italian 
woman.  Surely  my  poor  Lorna  came  of  an  ill-starred 
family. 

Now,  in  spite  of  all  this,  if  I  had  only  taken  Benita  with 
me,  or  even  told  her  what  I  wished,  and  craved  her  direc- 
tions, there  could  have  been  no  trouble.  But  I  do  assure 
you  that  among  the  stupid  people  at  Watchett  (compared 
with  whom  our  folk  of  Oare,  exceeding  dense  though 
being,  are  as  Hamlet  against  Dogberry),  what  with  one  of 
them  and  another,  and  the  firm  conviction  of  all  the  town 
that  I  could  be  come  only  to  wrestle,  I  do  assure  you  (as  I 
said  before)  that  my  wits  almost  went  out  of  me.  And 
what  vexed  me  yet  more  about  it  was,  that  I  saw  my  own 
mistake  in  coming  myself  to  seek  out  the  matter,  instead 
of  sending  some  unknown  person.  For  my  face  and  form 
were  known  at  that  time  (and  still  are  so)  to  nine  people 
out  of  every  ten  living  in  forty  miles  of  me.  Not  through 
any  excellence,  or  anything  of  good  desert  in  either  the  one 
or  the  other,  but  simply  because  folks  will  be  fools  on  the 
rivalry  of  wrestling.  The  art  is  a  fine  one  in  itself,  and 
demands  a  little  wit  of  brain,  as  well  as  strength  of  body: 
it  binds  the  man  who  studies  it  to  temperance  and  chastity, 
to  self-respect,  and  most  of  all  to  an  even  and  sweet  temper; 


JOHN  BECOMES  TOO  POPULAR.  503 

for  I  have  thrown  stronger  men  than  myself  (when  I  was 
a  mere  sapling,  and  before  my  strength  grew  hard  on  me) 
through  their  loss  of  temper.  But  though  the  art  is  an 
honest  one,  surely  they  who  excel  therein  have  a  right  (like 
all  the  rest  of  mankind)  to  their  own  private  life. 

Be  that  either  way — and  I  will  not  speak  too  strongly, 
for  fear  of  indulging  my  own  annoyance — anyhow,  all 
Watchett  town  cared  ten  times  as  much  to  see  John  Kidd 
as  to  show  him  what  he  wanted.  I  was  led  to  every  public- 
house  instead  of  to  the  church-yard;  and  twenty  tables 
were  ready  for  me,  in  lieu  of  a  single  grave-stone.  "  Zum- 
merzett  thou  bee's,  Jan  Ridd,  and  Zummerzett  thou  shalt 
be.  Thee  carl  thee  zell  a  Davonsheer  man!  Whoy,  thee 
lives  in  Zummerzett;  and  in  Zummerzett  thee  wast  barn, 
lad."  And  so  it  went  on  till  I  was  weary,  though  very 
much  obliged  to  them. 

Dull  and  solid  as  I  am,  and  with  a  wild  duck  waiting  for 
me  at  good  Mistress  Odam's,  I  saw  that  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  yield  to  these  good  people,  and  prove  me  a 
man  of  Somerset  by  eating  a  dinner  at  their  expense.  As 
for  the  church-yard,  none  would  hear  of  it,  and  I  grieved 
for  broaching  the  matter. 

But  how  v.as  I  to  meet  Lorna  again,  without  having 
done  the  thing  of  all  things  which  I  had  promised  to  see 
to?  It  would  never  do  to  tell  her  that  so  great  was  my 
popularity,  and  so  strong  the  desire  to  feed  me,  that  I  could 
not  attend  to  her  mother.  Least  of  all  could  I  say  that 
every  one  in  Watchett  knew  John  Ridd,  while  none  had 
heard  of  the  Countess  of  Dugal.  And  yet  that  was  about 
the  truth,  as  I  hinted  very  delicately  to  Mistress  Odam  that 
evening.  But  she  (being  vexed  about  her  wild  duck,  and 
not  having  English  ideas  on  the  matter  of  sports,  and  so 
on)  made  a  poor  unwitting  face  at  me.  Nevertheless, 
Master  Odam  restored  me  to  my  self-respect;  for  he  stared 
at  me  till  I  went  to  bed,  and  he  broke  his  hose  with  excite- 
ment. For,  being  in  the  leg-line  myself,  I  wanted  to  know 
what  the  muscles  were  of  a  man  who  turned  a  wheel  all 
day.  I  had  never  seen  a  tread-mill  (though  they  have  one 
now  at  Exeter),  and  it  touched  me  much  to  learn  whether 
it  were  good  exercise.  And  herein,  from  what  I  saw  of 
Odam,  I  incline  to. think  that  it  .does  great  harm;  as 
moving  the  muscles  too  much  in  a  line,  and  without 
variety. 


504  LORNADOONK, 


CHAPTER  LVII. 

LORNA   KNOWS   HER  KURSB. 

Having  obtained  from  Benita  Odam  a  very  close  and 
full  description  of  the  place  where  her  poor  mistress  lay, 
and  the  marks  whereby  to  know  it,  I  hastened  to  Watchett 
the  following  morning  before  the  sun  was  up,  or  any 
people  were  about.  And  so,  without  interruption,  I  was 
in  the  church -yard  at  sunrise. 

In  the  furthest  and  darkest  nook,  overgrown  with  grass, 
and  overhung  by  a  weeping  tree,  a  little  bank  of  earth 
betokened  the  rounding  off  of  a  hapless  life.  There  was 
nothing  to  tell  of  rank  or  wealth,  of  love,  or  even  pity: 
nameless  as  a  peasant  lay  the  last  (as  supposed)  of  a  mighty 
race.  Only  some  unskillful  hand,  probably  Master  Odam's, 
under  his  wife's  teaching,  had  carved  a  rude  L.,  and  a 
ruder  D.,  upon  a  large  pebble  from  the  beach,  and  set  it 
up  as  a  headstone. 

I  gathered  a  little  grass  for  Lorna,  and  a  sprig  of  the 
weeping  tree,  and  then  returned  to  the  *'  Forest  Cat,"  as 
Benita's  lonely  inn  was  called.  For  the  way  is  long  from 
Watchett  to  Oare;  and  though  you  may  ride  it  rapidly,  as 
the  Doones  had  done  on  that  fatal  night,  to  travel  on 
wheels,  with  one  horse  only,  is  a  matter  of  time  and  of 
prudence.  Therefore  we  set  out  pretty  early,  three  of  us, 
and  a  baby,  who  could  not  well  be  left  behind.  The  wife  of 
the  man  who  owned  the  cart  had  undertaken  to  mind  the 
business,  and  the  other  babies,  upon  condition  of  having 
the  keys  of  all  the  taps  left  with  her. 

As  the  manner  of  journeying  over  the  moor  has  been 
described  oft  enough  already,  I  will  say  no  more,  except 
that  we  all  arrived,  T)ef ore  dusk  of  the  summer's  day,  safe 
at  Plovers  Barrows.  Mistress  Benita  was  delighted  with 
the  change  from  her  dull  hard  life;  and  she  made  many 


LORN  A  KNOWS  HER  NURSE.  605 

excellent  observations,  such  as  seem  natural  to  a  foreigner 
looking  at  our  country. 

As  luck  would  have  it,  the  first  who  came  to  meet  us  at 
the  gate  was  Lorna,  with  nothing  whatever  upon  her  head 
(the  weather  being  summerly)  but  her  beautiful  hair  shed 
round  her,  and  wearing  a  sweet  white  frock  tucked  in, 
and  showing  her  figure  perfectly.  In  her  joy  she  ran 
straight  up  to  the  cart,  and  then  stopped  and  gazed  at 
Benita.  At  one  glance  her  old  nurse  knew  her:  *^  Oh  the 
eyes>  the  eyes!"  she  cried,  and  was  over  the  rail  of  the 
cart  in  a  moment,  in  spite  of  all  her  substance.  Lorna,  on 
the  other  hand,  looked  at  her  with  some  doubt  and  wonder, 
as  though  having  right  to  know  much  about  her,  and  yet 
unable  to  do  so.  But  when  the  foreign  woman  said  some- 
thing in  Roman  language,  and  flung  new  hay  from  the 
cart  upon  her,  as  if  in  a  romp  of  childhood,  the  young 
maid  cried,  '^Oh,  Xita,  Nita!"  and  fell  upon  her  breast 
and  wept,  and  after  that  looked  round  at  us. 

This  being  so,  there  could  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  power 
of  proving  Lady  Lorna^s  birth  and  rights,  both  by  evi- 
dence and  token.  For  though  we  had  not  the  necklace 
now — thanks  to  Annie's  wisdom — we  had  the  ring  of  heavy 
gold,  a  very  ancient  relic,  with  which  my  maid  (in  her 
simple  way)  had  pledged  herself  to  me.  And  Benita  knew 
this  ring  as  well  as  she  knew  her  own  fingers,  having  heard 
a  long  history  about  it;  and  the  effigy  on  it  of  the  wild-cat 
was  the  bearing  of  the  house  of  Lome. 

For  though  Lorna^s  father  was  a  nobleman  of  high  and 
goodly  lineage,  her  mother  was  of  yet  more  ancient  and 
renowned  descent,  being  the  last  in  line  direct  from  the 
great  and  kingly  chiefs  of  Lome.  A  wild  and  headstrong 
race  they  were,  and  must  have  everything  their  own  way. 
Hot  blood  was  ever  among  them,  even  of  one  household; 
and  their  sovereignty  (which  more  than  once  had  defied 
the  King  of  Scotland)  waned  and  fell  among  themselves 
by  continual  quarreling.  And  it  was  of  a  piece  with  this, 
that  the  Doones  (who  were  an  offset  by  the  mother's  side, 
holding  in  co-partnership  some  large  property,  which  had 
come  by  the  spindle,  as  we  say)  should  fall  out  with  the 
Earle  of  Lorne,  the  last  but  one  of  that  title. 

The  daughter  of  this  nobleman  had  married  Sir  Ensor 
Doone;  but  this,  instead  of  healing  matters,  led  to  fiercer 


506  LORNA  DOONE. 

conflict.  I  never  could  quite  understand  all  the  ins  and 
outs  of  it,  which  none  but  a  lawyer  may  go  through,  and 
keep  his  head  at  the  end  of  it.  The  motives  of  mankind 
are  plainer  than  the  motions  they  produce.  Especially 
when  charity  (such  as  found  among  us)  sits  to  judge  the 
former,  and  is  never  weary  of  it;  while  reason  does  not  care 
to  trace  the  latter  complications,  except  for  fee  or  title. 

Therefore  it  is  enough  to  say  that,  knowing  Lorna  to  be 
direct  in  heirship  to  vast  property,  and  bearing  especial 
spite  against  the  house  of  which  she  was  the  last,  the 
Doones  had  brought  her  up  with  full  intention  of  lawful 
marriage,  and  had  carefully  secluded  her  from  the  wildest 
of  their  young  gallants.  Of  course,  if  they  had  been  next 
in  succession,  the  child  would  have  gone  down  the  water- 
fall, to  save  any  further  trouble;  but  there  was  an  inter- 
cepting branch  of  some  honest  family;  and  they  being 
outlaws,  would  have  a  poor  chance  (though  the  law  loves 
outlaws)  against  them.  Only  Lorna  was  of  the  stock,  and 
Lorna  they  must  marry.  And  what  a  triumph  against  the 
old  Earl  for  a  cursed  Doone  to  succeed  him! 

As  for  their  outlawry,  great  robberies,  and  grand  mur- 
ders, the  veriest  child  nowadays  must  know  that  money 
heals  the  whole  of  that.  Even  if  they  had  murdered 
people  of  a  good  position,  it  would  only  cost  about  twice  as 
much  to  prove  their  motives  loyal.  But  they  had  never 
slain  any  man  above  the  rank  of  yeoman;  and  folk  even 
said  that  my  father  was  the  highest  of  their  victims;  for 
the  death  of  Lorna's  mother  and  brother  was  never  set  to 
their  account. 

Pure  pleasure  it  is  to  any  man  to  reflect  upon  all  these 
things.  How  truly  we  discern  clear  justice,  and  how  well 
we  deal  it.  If  any  poor  man  steals  a  sheep,  having  ten 
children  starving,  and  regarding  it  as  mountain  game  (as  a 
rich  man  does  a  hare),  to  the  gallows  with  him.  If  a  man 
of  rank  beats  down  a  door,  smites  the  owner  upon  the 
head,  and  honors  the  wife  v:\^\  rJ/icntion,  it  is  a  thing  to 
be  grateful  for,  and  to  slouch  smitten  head  the  lower. 

While  we  were  full  of  all  these  things,  and  wondering 
what  would  happen  next,  or  what  we  ought  ourselves  to  do, 
another  very  important  matter  called  for  our  attention. 
This  was  no  less  than  Aniiie's  marriage  to  the  Squire 
Faggus.     We  had  tried  to  put  it  off  again;  for,  in  spite  of 


LORN  A  KNOWS  BER  NUR8JS.  507 

all  advantages,  neither  my  mother  nor  myself  had  any  real 
heart  for  it.  Not  that  we  dwelt  upon  Tom's  shortcom- 
ings, or  rather,  perhaps,  his  going  too  far  at  the  time  when 
he  worked  the  road  so.  AH  that  was  covered  by  the 
King's  pardon,  and  universal  respect  of  the  neighborhood. 
But  our  scruple  was  this — and  the  more  we  talked  the 
more  it  grew  upon  us — that  we  both  had  great  misgivings 
as  to  his  future  steadiness. 

For  it  would  be  a  thousand  pities,  we  said,  for  a  fine, 
well-grown  and  pretty  maiden  (such  as  our  Annie  was), 
useful,  too,  in  so  many  ways,  and  lively,  and  warm- 
hearted, and  mistress  of  £500,  to  throw  herself  away  on  a 
man  with  a  kind  of  a  turn  for  drinking.  If  that  last  were 
even  hinted,  Annie  would  be  most  indignant,  and  ask, 
with  cheeks  as  red  as  roses,  who  had  ever  seen  Master 
Faggus  any  the  worse  for  liquor  indeed?  Her  own  opinion 
was,  in  truth,  that  he  took  a  great  deal  too  little,  after  all 
his  hard  work,  and  hard  riding,  and  coming  over  the  hills 
to  be  insulted!  And  if  ever  it  lay  in  her  power,  and  with 
no  one  to  grudge  him  his  trumpery  glass,  she  would  see 
that  poor  Tom  had  the  nourishment  which  his  cough  and 
his  lungs  required. 

His  lungs  being  quite  as  sound  as  mine,  this  matter  was 
out  of  all  argument;  so  mother  and  I  looked  at  one 
another,  as  much  as  to  say,  ''  Let  her  go  upstairs;  she  will 
cry,  and  come  down  more  reasonable."  And  while  she 
was  gone,  we  used  to  say  the  same  thing  over  and  over 
again,  but  without  perceiving  a  cure  for  it.  And  we 
almost  always  finished  up  with  the  following  reflection, 
which  sometimes  came  from  mother's  lips,  and  sometimes 
from  my  own:  "Well,  well,  there  is  no  telling.  None 
can  say  how  a  man  may  alter  when  he  takes  to  matrimony. 
But  if  we  could  only  make  Annie  promise  to  be  a  little  firm 
with  him!" 

I  fear  that  all  this  talk  on  our  part  only  hurried  matters 
forward,  Annie  being  more  determined  every  time  we 
pitied  her.  And  at  last  Tom  Faggus  came,  and  spoke  as 
if  he  were  on  the  King's  road,  with  a  pistol  at  my  head, 
and  one  at  mother's.  "  No  more  fast  and  loose,"  he  cried; 
"  either  one  thing  or  the  other.  I  love  the  maid  and  she 
loves  me;  and  we  will  have  one  another,  either  with  your 
leave,  or  without  it.     How  many  more  times  am  I  to  dance 


508  LORNA  DOONZ 

over  these  vile  hills,  and  leave  my  business,  and  get  noth- 
ing more  than  a  sigh  or  a  kiss,  and  '  Tom,  I  must  wait  for 
mother?'  You  are  famous  for  being  straightforward,  you 
Ridds.     Just  treat  me  as  I  would  treat  you,  now." 

I  looked  at  my  mother;  for  a  glance  from  her  would 
have  sent  Tom  out  of  the  window;  but  she  checked  me 
with  her  hand,  and  said,  ''You  have  some  ground  of 
complaint,  sir,  I  will  not  deny  it.  Now  I  will  be  as 
straightforward  with  you  as  even  a  Ridd  is  supposed  to  be. 
My  son  and  myself  have  all  along  disliked  your  marriage 
with  Annie.  Not  for  what  you  have  been  so  much,  as  for 
what  we  fear  you  will  be.  Have  patience  one  moment,  if 
you  please.  We  do  not  fear  your  taking  to  the  highway 
life  again;  for  that  you  are  too  clever,  no  doubt,  now  that 
you  have  property.  But  we  fear  that  you  will  take  to 
drinking,  and  to  squandering  money.  There  are  many 
examples  of  this  around  us,  and  we  know  what  the  fate  of 
the  wife  is.  It  has  been  hard  to  tell  you  this,  under  our 
own  roof,  and  with  our  own *'     Here  mother  hesitated. 

*' Spirits,  and  cider,  and  beer,"  I  broke  in;  '^  out  with 
it,  like  a  Ridd,  mother;  as  he  will  have  all  of  it." 

*'  Spirits,  and  cider,  and  beer,"  said  mother,  very  firmly, 
after  me;  and  then  she  gave  way  and  said,  *'  You  know, 
Tom,  you  are  welcome  to  every  drop,  and  more  of  it." 

Now,  Tom,  must  have  had  a  far  sweeter  temper  than 
ever  I  could  claim;  for  I  should  have  thrust  my  glass 
away,  and  never  taken  another  drop  in  the  house  where 
such  a  check  had  met  me.  But  instead  of  that.  Master 
Faggus  replied,  with  a  pleasant  smile: 

*'  I  know  that  I  am  welcome,  good  mother;  and  to  prove 
it,  I  will  have  some  more." 

And  thereupon  he  mixed  himself  another  glass  of  hol- 
lands,  with  lemon  and  hot  water,  yet  pouring  it  very 
delicately. 

''Oh,  I  have  been  so  miserable — take  a  little  more, 
Tom,"  said  mother,  handing  the  bottle. 

"Yes,  take  a  little  more,"  I  said;  "you  have  mixed  it 
over  weak,  Tom." 

"  If  ever  there  was  a  sober  man,"  cried  Tom,  complying 
with  our  request;  "  if  ever  there  was  in  Christendom  a 
man  of  perfect  sobriety,  that  man  is  now  before  you. 
Shall  we  say  to-morrow  v;eek,  mother?  It  will  suit  your 
washing-day/' 


LORN  A  KNOWS  HER  NURSE.  509 

''How  very  thoughtful  yon  are,  Tom!  Now,  John 
would  never  have  thought  of  that  in  spite  of  all  his 
steadiness." 

**  Certainly  not,'*  I  answered,  proudly;  '*  when  my  time 
comes  for  Lorna,  I  shall  not  study  Betty  Muxworthy." 

In  this  way  the  Squire  got  over  us;  and  Farmer  Nicholas 
Snowe  was  sent  for,  to  counse  with  mother  about  the 
matter,  and  to  set  his  two  daughters  sewing. 

When  the  time  for  the  wedding  came,  there  was  such  a 
stir  and  commotion  as  had  never  been  known  in  the  parish 
of  Oare  since  my  father's  marriage.  For  Annie's  beauty 
and  kindliness  had  made  her  the  pride  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  the  presents  sent  her  from  all  around  were 
enough  to  stock  a  shop  with.  Master  Stickles,  who  now 
could  walk,  and  who  certainly  owed  his  recovery,  with  the 
blessing  of  God,  to  Annie,  presented  her  with  a  mighty 
Bible,  silver-clasped,  and  very  handsome,  beating  the  par- 
son's out  and  out,  and  for  which  he  had  sent  to  Taunton. 
Even  the  common  troopers,  having  tasted  her  cookery 
many  times  (to  help  out  their  poor  rations),  clubbed 
together  end  must  have  given  at  least  a  week's  pay  apiece, 
to  have  turned  out  what  they  did  for  her.  This  was  no 
less  than  a  silver  pot,  well  designed,  but  suited  surely 
rather  to  the  bridegroom's  taste  than  bride's.  In  a'word, 
everybody  gave  her  things. 

And  nOiV  my  Lorna  came  to  me,  with  a  spring  of  tears 
in  appealing  eyes — for  she  was  still  somewhat  childish,  or 
rather,  I  should  say,  more  childish  now  than  when  she 
lived  in  misery — and  she  placed  her  little  hand  in  mine, 
and  she  was  half  afraid  to  speak,  and  dropped  her  eyes  for 
me  to  ask. 

"  What  is  it,  little  darling?"  I  asked,  as  I  saw  her  breath 
come  fast;  for  the  smallest  emotion  moved  her  form. 

"  You  don't  think,  John,  you  don't  think,  dear,  that 
you  could  lend  me  any  money?" 

"  All  I  have  got,"  I  answered;  "  how  muck  do  you  want, 
dear  heart?" 

''I  have  been  calculating;  and  I  fear  that  I  cannot  do 
any  good  with  less  than  ten  pounds,  John." 

Here  she  looked  up  at  me  with  horror  at  the  ffrandeur  of 
the  sum,  and  not  knowing  what  I  could  think  of  it.  But  I 
kept  my  eyes  from  hers.     "Ten  pounds!"  I  said,  in  my 


510  LORNA  BOONE, 

deepest  voice,  on  purpose  to  have  it  out  in  comfort,  when 
she  should  be  frightened:  '^  what  can  you  want  with  ten 
pounds,  child?'' 

"  That  is  my  concern,"  said  Lorna,  plucking  up  her 
spirit  at  this:  ^*  when  a  lady  asks  for  a  loan,  no  gentleman 
pries  into  the  cause  of  her  asking  it.'' 

"  That  may  be,  as  may  be,"  I  answered,  in  a  judicial 
manner:  "ten  pounds,  or  twenty,  you  shall  have.  But  I 
must  know  the  purport." 

**  Then  that  you  never  shall  know,  John.  I  am  very 
sorry  for  asking  you.  It  is  not  of  the  smallest  consequence. 
Oh  dear,  no."     Herewith  she  was  running  away. 

*^0h  dear,  yes,"  I  replied;  "it  is  of  very  great  conse- 
quence; and  1  understand  the  whole  of  it.  You  want  to 
give  that  stupid  Annie,  who  has  lost  you  a  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds,  and  who  is  going  to  be  married  before  us, 
dear — God  only  can  tell  why,  being  my  younger  sister — you 
want  to  give  her  a  wedding  present.  And  you  shall  do  it, 
darling,  because  it  is  so  good  of  you.  Don't  you  know 
your  title,  love?  How  humble  you  are  with  us  humble 
folk.  You  are  Lady  Lorna  something,  so  far  as  I  can 
make  out  yet,  and  you  ought  not  even  to  speak  to  us.  You 
will  go  away,  and  disdain  us." 

"If  you  please,  talk  not  like  that,  John.  I  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it,  if  it  comes  between  you  and  me, 
John." 

"  You  cannot  help  yourself,"  said  I.  And  then  she 
vowed  that  she  could  and  would.  And  rank  and  birth 
were  banished  from  between  our  lips  in  no  time. 

"  What  can  I  get  her  good  enough?  I  am  sure  I  do  not 
know,"  she  asked:  "she  has  been  so  good  and  kind  to  me, 
and  she  is  such  a  darling.  How  I  shall  miss  her,  to  be 
sure!  By-the-by,  you  seem  to  think,  John,  that  I  shall  be 
rich  some  day." 

"  Of  course  you  will.  As  rich  as  the  French  King  who 
keeps  ours.  Would  the  Lord  Chancellor  trouble  himself 
about  you,  if  you  were  poor?" 

"Then  if  I  am  rich,  perhaps  you  would  lend  me  twenty 
pounds,  dear  John.  Ten  pounds  would  be  very  mean  for 
a  wealthy  person  to  give  her." 

To  this  1  agreed,  upon  condition  that  I  should  make  the 
purchase  myself,  whatever  it  might  be — for  nothing  could 


LORN  A  KNOWS  HER  NURSE,  511 

be  easier  than  to  cheat  Lorna  about  the  cost — until  time 
should  come  for  her  paying  me.  And  this  was  better  than 
to  cheat  her  for  the  benefit  of  onr  family.  For  this  end, 
and  for  many  others,  I  set  off  to  Dulverton,  bearing  more 
commissions,  more  messages,  and  more  questions,  than  a 
man  of  thrice  my  memory  might  carry  so  far  as  the  corner 
where  the  saw-pit  is.  And  to  make  things  worse,  one  girl 
or  other  would  keep  on  running  up  to  me,  or  even  after 
me  (when  started),  with  something  or  other  she  had  just 
thought  of,  which  she  could  not  possibly  do  without,  and 
which  I  must  be  sure  to  remember,  as  the  most  important 
of  the  whole. 

To  my  dear  mother,  who  had  partly  outlived  the  exceed- 
ing value  of  trifles,  the  most  important  matter  seemed  to 
insure  Uncle  Reuben's  countenance  and  presence  at  the 
marriage.  And  if  I  succeeded  in  this,  I  might  well  forget 
all  the  maidens'  trumpery.  This  she  would  have  been 
wiser  to  tell  me  when  they  were  out  of  hearing,  for  I  left 
her  to  fight  her  own  battle  with  them;  and  laughing  at  her 
predicament,  promised  to  do  the  best  I  could  for  all,  so  far 
as  my  wits  would  go. 

Uncle  Reuben  was  not  at  home;  but  Ruth,  who  received 
me  very  kindly,  although  without  any  expressions  of  joy, 
was  sure  of  his  return  in  the  afternoon,  and  persuaded  me 
to  wait  for  him.  And  by  the  time  that  I  had  finished  all 
1  could  recollect  of  my  orders,  even  with  paper  to  help  me, 
the  old  gentleman  rode  into  the  yard,  and  was  more  sur- 
prised than  pleased  to  see  me.  But  if  he  was  surprised,  I 
was  more  than  that — I  was  utterly  astonished  at  the  change 
in  his  appearance  since  the  last  time  I  had  seen  him. 
From  a  hale,  and  rather  heavy  man,  grav-haired,  but 
plump  and  ruddy,  he  was  altered  to  a  shrunken,  wizened, 
trembling,  and  almost  decrepit  figure.  Instead  of  curly 
and  comely  locks,  grizzled  indeed,  but  plentiful,  he  had 
only  a  few  lank  white  hairs  scattered  and  flattened  upon 
his  forehead.  But  the  greatest  change  of  all  was  in  the 
expression  of  his  eyes,  which  had  been  so  keen,  and  restless, 
and  bright,  and  a  little  sarcastic.  Bright,  indeed,  they 
still  were,  but  with  a  slow,  unhealthy  lustre;  their  keenness 
was  turned  to  perpetual  outlook,  their  restlessness  to  a 
haggard  want.  As  for  the  humor  which  once  gleamed 
there  (which  people  who  fear  it  call  sarcasm),  it  had  been 


512  LORNA  DOOJSTR 

succeeded  by  stares  of  terror,  and  then  mistrust  and  shrink- 
ing. There  was  none  of  the  interest  in  mankind  which  is 
needful  even  for  satire. 

**Now  what  can  this  be?'' thought  I  to  myself:  "has 
the  old  man  lost  all  his  property,  or  taken  too  much  to 
strong  waters?  '^ 

*'Come  inside,  John  Kidd,''  he  said:  "I  will  have  a 
talk  with  you.  It  is  cold  out  here,  and  it  is  too  light. 
Come  inside,  John  Ridd,  boy." 

I  followed  him  into  a  little  dark  room,  quit»  different 
from  Ruth  Huckaback's.  It  was  closed  from  the  shop  by 
an  old  division  of  boarding,  hung  with  tanned  canvas,  and 
the  smell  was  very  close  and  faint.  Here  there  was  a 
ledger-desk,  and  a  couple  of  chairs,  and  a  long-legged  stool. 

"Take  the  stool,"  said  Uncle  Reuben,  showing  me  in 
very  quietly,  "it  is  fitter  for  your  height,  John,  Wait  a 
moment;  there  is  no  hurry." 

Then  he  slipped  out  by  another  door,  and  closing  it 
quickly  after  him,  told  the  foreman  and  waiting-men  that 
the  business  of  the  day  was  done.  They  had  better  all  go 
home  at  once,  and  he  would  see  to  the  fastenings.  Of 
course  they  were  only  too  glad  to  go;  but  I  wondered  at 
his  sending  them,  with  at  least  two  hours  of   daylight  left. 

However,  that  was  no  business  of  mine,  and  I  waited 
and  pondered  whether  fair  Ruth  ever  came  into  this  dirty 
room,  and  if  so,  how  she  kept  her  hands  from  it.  For 
Annie  would  have  had  it  upside  down  in  about  two 
minutes,  and  scrubbed,  and  brushed,  and  dusted,  until  it 
looked  quite  another  place;  and  yet  all  this  done  without 
scolding  and  crossness,  which  are  the  curse  of  clean  women, 
and  ten  times  worse  than  the  dustiest  dust. 

Uncle  Ben  came  reeling  in,  not  from  any  power  of 
liquor,  but  because  he  was  stiff  from  horseback,  and  weak 
from  work  and  worry. 

"  Let  me  be,  John,  let  me  be,"  he  said,  as  I  went  to  help 
him:  "  this  is  an  unked  dreary  place;  but  many  a  hundred 
of  good  gold  Oarolus  has  been  turned  in  this  place,  John." 

"  Not  a  doubt  about  it,  sir,"  I  answered,  in  my  loud  and 
cheerful  manner;  "and  many  another  hundred,  sir;  and 
may  you  long  enjoy  them! " 

"  My  boy,  do  you  wish  me  to  die?"  he  asked,  coming  up 
close  to  my  stool,  and  regarding  me  with  a  shrewd  though 
blear-eyed  gaze;  "many  do.     Do  you,  John?" 


LORN  A  KNOWS  HER  NUR8£!.  5l3 

''Come/'  said  I,  "don^t  ask  such  nonsense.  You  know 
better  than  that,  Uncle  Ben.     Or  else  I  am  sorry  for  you. 

I  want  you  to  live  as  long  as  possible,  for  the  sake  of " 

Here  I  stopped. 

"  For  the  sake  of  what,  John?  I  know  it  is  not  for  my 
own  sake.     For  the  sake  of  what,  my  boy?" 

*^For  the  sake  of  Ruth,"  I  answered;  "if  you  must 
have  the  truth.     Who  is  to  mind  her  when  you  are  gone?" 

"  But  if  you  knew  that  I  had  gold,  or  a  manner  of  get- 
ting gold  far  more  than  ever  the  sailors  got  out  of  the 
Spanish  galleons — far  more  than  ever  was  heard  of;  and 
the  secret  was  to  be  yours,  John;  yours  after  me,  and  no 
other  souFs — then  you  would  wish  me  dead,  John."  Here 
he  eyed  me  as  if  a  speck  of  dust  in  my  eyes  should  not 
escape  him. 

'*You  are  wrong.  Uncle  Ben;  altogether  wrong.  For 
all  the  gold  ever  heard  or  dreamed  of,  not  a  wish  would 
cross  my  heart  to  rob  you  of  one  day  of  life." 

At  last  he  moved  his  eyes  from  mine,  but  without 
any  word  or  sign  to  show  whether  he  believed  or  disbe- 
lieved. Then  he  went  to  a  chair,  and  sat  with  his  chin  upon 
the  ledger  desk;  as  if  the  effort  of  probing  me  had  been 
too  much  for  his  weary  brain.  *' Dreamed  of!  All  the 
gold  ever  dreamed  of  !  As  if  it  were  but  a  dream!"  he 
muttered;  and  then  he  closed  his  eyes  to  think. 

"Good  Uncle  Reuben,"  I  said  to  him,  "you  have  been 
a  long  way  to-day,  sir.  Let  me  go  and  get  you  a  glass  of 
good  wine.     Cousin  Ruth  knows  where  to  find  it." 

"How  do  you  know  how  far  I  have  been?"  he  asked, 
with  a  vicious  look  at  me.  "And  Cousin  Ruth!  You  are 
very  pat  with  my  granddaughter's  name,  young  man." 

"  It  would  be  hard  upon  me,  sir,  not  to  know  my  own 
cousin's  name." 

"  Very  well.  Let  that  go  by.  You  have  behaved  very 
badly  to  Rath.     She  loves  you,  and  you  love  her  not." 

At  this  I  was  so  wholly  amazed — not  at  the  thing  itself,.! 
mean,  but  at  his  knowledge  of  it — that  I  could  not  say  a 
single  word,  but  looked,  no  doubt,  very  foolish. 

"  You  may  well  be  ashamed,  young  man,"  he  cried, 
with  some  trismph  over  me;  "you  are  the  biggest  of  all 
fools,  as  well  as  a  conceited  coxcomb.  What  can  you  want 
more  than  Ruth?    She  is  a  little  damsel  truly;  but  finer 


514  LOnNA  DOONB, 

men  than  you,  John  Ridd,  with  all  your  boasted  strength 
and  wrestling,  have  wedded  smaller  maidens.  ^  And  as  for 
quality  and  value — bots!  one  inch  of  Ruth  is  worth  all 
your  seven  feet  put  together. 

Now  I  am  not  seven  feet  high,  nor  ever  was  six  feet 
eight  inches,  in  my  very  prime  of  life;  and  nothing  vexes 
me  so  much  as  to  make  me  out  a  giant,  and  above  human 
sympathy,  and  human  scale  of  weakness.  It  cost  me  hard 
to  hold  my  tongue,  which,  luckily,  is  not  in  proportion  to 
my  stature.  And  only  for  Ruth's  sake  I  held  it.  But 
Uncle  Ben  (being  old  and  worn)  was  vexed  by  not  having 
any  answer,  almost  as  much  as  a  woman  is. 

'*  You  want  me  to  go  on,'^  he  continued,  with  a  look  of 
spite  at  me,  *'  about  my  poor  Ruth's  love  for  you,  to  feed 
your  cursed  vanity.  Because  a  set  of  asses  call  you  the 
finest  man  in  England,  there  is  no  maid  (I  suppose)  who 
is  not  in  love  with  you.  I  believe  you  are  as  deep  as  you 
are  long,  John  Ridd.  Shall  I  ever  get  to  the  bottom  of 
your  character?" 

This  was  i  little  too  much  for  me.  Any  insult  I  could 
take  (with  good-will)  from  a  white-haired  man,  and 
one  who  was  my  relative,  unless  it  touched  my  love  for 
Lorna,  or  my  conscious  modesty.  Now  both  of  these  were 
touched  to  the  quick  by  the  sentences  of  the  old  gentleman. 
Therefore,  without  a  word,  I  went ;  only  making  a  bow  to 
him. 

But  women,  who  are  (beyond  all  doubt)  the  mothers  of 
all  mischief,  also  nurse  that  babe  to  sleep  when  he  is  too 
noisy.  And  there  was  Ruth,  as  I  took  my  horse  (with  a 
trunk  of  frippery  on  him),  poor  little  Ruth  was  at  the  bri- 
dle, and  rusting  all  the  knops  of  our  town-going  harness 
with  tears. 

'*  Good-by,  dear,"  I  said,  as  she  bent  her  head  away 
from  me;  "shall  I  put  you  up  on  the  saddle,  dear?" 

"  Cousin  Ridd,  you  may  take  it  lightly,"  said  Ruth, 
turning  full  upon  me,  '^and  very  likely  you  are  right,  ac- 
cording to  your  nature" — this  was  the  only  cutting  thing 
the  little  soul  ever  said  to  me — "  but  oh.  Cousin  Ridd,  you 
have  no  idea  of  the  pain  3'ou  will  leave  behind  you." 

"  How  can  that  be  so,  Ruth,  when  I  am  as  good  as  or- 
dered to  be  off  the  premises?" 

**In  the  first  place,  Cousin  Ridd,  grandfather  will  be 


LORN  A  KNOWS  HER  NURSE.  515 

angry  with  himself  for  having  so  ill-used  you.  And  now 
he  is  so  weak  and  poorly  that  he  is  always  repenting.  In 
the  next  place,  I  shall  scold  him  first,  until  he  admits  his 
sorrow;  and  when  he  has  admitted  it,  I  shall  scold  myself 
for  scolding  him.  And  then  he  will  come  round  again, 
and  think  that  I  was  hard  on  him,  and  end  perhaps  by 
hating  you — for  he  is  like  a  woman  now,  John." 

That  last  little  touch  of  self-knowledge  in  Ruth,  which 
she  delivered  with  a  gleam  of  some  secret  pleasantry,  made 
me  stop  and  look  closely  at  her,  but  she  pretended  not  to 
know  it.  '*  There  is  something  in  this  child,"  I  thought, 
*'very  different  from  other  girls.  What  it  is  I  cannot  tell; 
for  one  very  seldom  gets  at  it," 

At  any  rate,  the  upshot  was  that  the  good  horse  went 
back  to  stable  and  had  another  feed  of  corn,  while  my 
wrath  sunk  within  me.  There  are  two  things,  according 
to  my  experience  (which  may  not  hold  with  another  man), 
fitted  beyond  many  others  to  take  hot  tempers  out  of  us. 
The  first  is  to  see  our  favorite  creatures  feeding,  and  lick- 
ing up  their  food,  and  happily  snuffing  over  it,  yet  sparing 
time  to  be  grateful,  and  showing  taste  and  perception;  the 
other  is  to  go  gardening  boldly  in  the  spring  of  the  year 
without  any  misgiving  about  it,  and  hoping  the  utmost  of 
everything.  If  there  be  a  third  anodyne,  approaching  these 
two  in  power,  it  is  to  smoke  good  tobacco  well,  and  watch  the 
setting  of  the  moon;  and  if  this  should  only  be  over  the 
sea,  the  result  is  irresistible. 

Master  Huckaback  showed  no  especial  signs  of  joy  at  my 
return,  but  received  me  with  a  little  grunt,  which  appeared 
to  me  to  mean,  **  Ah,  I  thought  he  would  hardly  be  fool 
enough  to  go."  I  told  him  how  sorry  I  was  for  having  in 
some  way  offended  him;  and  he  answered  that  I  did  well 
to  grieve  for  one  at  least  of  my  offences.  To  this  I  made 
no  reply,  as  behooves  a  man  dealing  with  cross  and  fractious 
people:  and  presently  he  became  better-tempered,  and  sent 
little  Ruth  for  a  bottle  of  wine.  She  gave  me  a  beautiful 
smile  of  thanks  for  my  forbearance  as  she  passed,  and  I 
knew  by  her  manner  that  she  would  bring  the  best  bottle 
in  all  the  cellar. 

As  I  had  but  little  time  to  spare  (although  the  days  were 
long  and  light),  we  were  forced  to  take  our  wine  with 
promptitude  and  rapidity;  and  whether  this  loosened  my 


516  LORNA  DOONE, 

uncle^s  tongue,  or  whether  he  meant  beforehand  to  speak, 
is  now  almost  uncertain.  But  true  it  is  that  he  brought 
his  chair  very  near  to  mine,  after  three  or  four  glasses,  and 
sent  Ruth  away  upon  some  errand  which  seemed  of  small 
importance.  At  this  I  was  vexed:  for  the  room  always 
looked  so  different  without  her. 

*^Come,  Jack,"  he  said,  '*^  here's  your  health,  young 
fellow,  and  a  good  and  obedient  wife  to  you.  Not  that 
your  wife  will  ever  obey  you,  though;  you  are  much  too 
easy  tempered.  Even  a  bitter  and  stormy  woman  might 
live  in  peace  with  you,  Jack.  But  never  you  give  her 
the  chance  to  try.  Marry  some  sweet  little  thing,  if  you 
can.  If  not,  don't  marry  any.  Ah !  we  have  the  maid  to 
suit  you,  my  lad,  in  this  old  town  of  Dulverton.'' 

''  Have  you  so,  sir?  But  perhaps  the  maid  might  have 
no  desire  to  suit  me.'' 

^'  That  you  may  take  my  word  she  has.  The  color  of 
this  wine  will  prove  it.  The  sly  little  hussy  has  been  to 
the  cobwebbed  arch  of  the  cellar,  where  she  has  no  right 
to  go  for  any  one  under  a  magistrate.  However,  I  am  glad 
to  see  it;  and  we  will  not  spare  it,  John.  After  my  time, 
somebody,  whoever  marries  little  Ruth,  will  find  some  rare 
wine  there,  I  trow,  and  perhaps  not  know  the  difference." 

Thinking  of  this,  the  old  man  sighed,  and  expected  me 
to  sigh  after  him.  But  a  sigh  is  not  (like  a  yawn)  infec- 
tious; and  we  are  all  more  prone  to  be  sent  to  sleep  than 
to  sorrow  by  one  another.  Not  but  what  a  sigh  sometimes 
may  make  us  think  of  sighing. 

*'  Well,  sir,"  cried  I,  in  my  sprightliest  manner,  wliich 
rouses  up  most  people,  ^^  here's  to  your  health  and  dear 
little  Ruth's;  and  may  you  live  to  knock  off  the  cobwebs 
from  every  bottle  in  under  the  arch.  Uncle  Reuben,  your 
life  and  health,  sir!" 

With  that  I  took  my  glass  thoughtfully,  for  it  was  won- 
drous good;  and  Uncle  Ben  was  pleased  to  see  me  dwelling 
pleasantly  on  the  subject,  with  parenthesis,  and  self-com- 
mune, and  oral  judgment  unpronounced,  though  smacking 
of  fine  decision.  ^'  Curia  vult  advisari,"  as  the  lawyers  say; 
which  means,  ^^Let  us  have  another  glass,  and  then  we 
can  think  about  it." 

"  Come  now,  John,"  said  Uncle  Ben,  laying  his  wrinkled 
hand  on  my  knee,  when  he  saw  that  none  could  heed  us. 


LORNA  KNOWS  HER  NURSE.  517 

''  I  know  that  you  have  a  sneaking  fondness  for  my  grand- 
child, Ruth.  Don't  interrupt  me  now;  you  have;  and  to 
deny  it  will  only  provoke  me." 

''  I  do  like  Ruth,  sir,"  I  said  boldly,  for  fear  of  mis- 
understanding; "but  I  do  not  love  her." 

'^  Very  well ;  that  makes  no  difference.  Liking  may 
very  soon  be  loving  (as  some  people  call  it),  when  the  maid 
has  money  to  help  her." 

'^  But  if  there  be,  as  there  is  in  my  case " 

"  Once  for  all,  John,  not  a  word.  I  do  not  attempt  to 
lead  you  into  any  engagement  with  little  Ruth,  neither  will 
I  blame  you  (though  I  may  be  disappointed)  if  no  such 
engagement  should  ever  be.  But  whether  you  will  have 
my  grandchild,  or  whether  you  will  not — and  such  a  chance 
is  rarely  offered  to  a  fellow  of  your  standing  " — Uncle  Ben 
despised  all  farmers — "in  any  case  I  have  at  last  re- 
solved to  let  you  know  my  secret,  and  for  two  good  reasons. 
The  first  is  that  it  wears  me  out  to  dwell  upon  it  all  alone, 
and  the  second  is  that  I  can  trust  you  to  fulfill  a  promise. 
Moreover,  you  are  my  next  of  kin,  except  among  the 
womankind;  and  you  are  just  the  man  I  want  to  help  me 
in  my  enterprise." 

"And  I  will  help  you,  sir,"  I  answered,  fearing  some 
conspiracy,  "in  anything  that  is  true  and  loyal,  and  accord- 
ing to  the  laws  of  the  realm." 

"Ha,  ha!"  cried  the  old  man,  laughing  until  his  eyes 
ran  over,  and  spreading  out  his  skinny  hands  upon  his 
shining  breeches,  "  thou  hast  gone  the  same  fools'  track  as 
the  rest;  even  as  spy  Spickles  went,  and  all  precious  troopers. 
Landing  of  arms  at  Glenthorne  and  Lynmouth,  wagons 
escorted  across  the  moor,  sounds  of  metal,  and  booming 
noises!  Ah!  but  we  managed  it  cleverly,  to  cheat  even 
those  so  near  to  us.  Disaffection  at  Taunton,  signs  of  in- 
surrection at  Dulverton,  revolutionary  tanner  -at  Dunsterl 
We  set  it  all  abroad,  right  well.  And  not  even  you  to 
suspect  our  work,  though  we  thought  at  one  time  that  you 
watched  us.  Now  who,  do  you  suppose,  is  at  the  bottom 
of  all  this  Exmoor  insurgency,  all  this  Western  rebellion 
— not  that  I  say  there  is  none,  mind — but  who  is  at  the 
bottom  of  it?" 

"  Either  Mother  Melldrum,"  said  I,  being  now  a  little 
angry,  "or  else  old  Nick  himself." 


518  LORNA  BOONE, 

**Nay,  old  Uncle  Reuben!"  Saying  this.  Master  Hucka- 
back cast  back  his  coat  and  stood  up,  and  made  the  most 
of  himself. 

"Well!"  cried  I,  being  now  quite  come  to  the  limits  of 
my  intellect,  "  then,  after  all.  Captain  Stickles  was  right  in 
calling  you  a  rebel,  sir!" 

"  Of  course  he  was:  could  so  keen  a  man  be  wrong  about 
an  old  fool  like  me?  But  come  and  see  our  rebellion,  John. 
I  will  trust  you  now  with  everything.  I  will  take  no  oath 
from  you,  only  your  word  to  keep  silence;  and  most  of  all 
from  your  mother." 

"I  will  give  you  my  word,"  I  said,  although  liking  not 
such  pledges;  which  make  a  man  think  before  he  speaks, 
in  ordinary  company,  against  his  usual  practice.  However, 
I  was  now  so  curious,  that  I  thought  of  nothing  else;  and 
scarcely  could  believe  at  all  that  Uncle  Ben  was  quite  right 
in  his  head. 

"  Take  another  glass  of  wine,  my  son,"  he  cried,  with  a 
cheerful  countenance,  which  made  him  look  more  than  ten 
years  younger;  "  you  shall  come  into  partnership  with  me; 
your  strength  will  save  us  two  horses,  and  we  alv/ays  fear 
the  horse-work.  Come  and  see  our  rebellion,  my  boy;  you 
are  a  made  man  from  to-night." 

*'But  where  am  I  to  come  and  see  it?  Where  am  I  to 
find  it,  sir?" 

''Meet  me,"  he  answered,  yet  closing  his  hands,  and 
wrinkling  with  doubt  his  forehead;  "  come  alone,  of  course, 
and  meet  me  at  the  Wizard's  Slough  at  ten  to-morrow 
morning/ 


MASTER  HUCKABACK'S  SECRET.  619 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

MASTER    huckaback's  SECRET. 

Knowing  Master  Huckaback  to  be  a  man  of  his  word, 
-as  well  as  one  who  would  have  others  so,  I  was  careful  to 
be  in  good  time  the  next  morning  by  the  side  of  the 
Wizard's  Slough.  I  am  free  to  admit  that  the  name  of 
the  place  bore  a  feeling  of  uneasiness,  and  a  love  of 
distance,  in  some  measure,  to  my  heart.  But  I  did  my 
best  not  to  think  of  this;  only  I  thought  it  a  wise  pre- 
caution, and  due,  for  the  sake  of  my  mother  and  Lorna-, 
to  load  my  gun  with  a  dozen  slugs  made  from  the  lead  of 
the  old  church-porch,  laid  by,  long  since,  against  witch- 
craft. 

I  am  well  aware  that  some  people  now  begin  to  doubt 
about  witchcraft;  or  at  any  rate  feign  to  do  so,  being  de- 
sirous to  disbelieve  whatever  they  are  afraid  of.  This 
spirit  is  growing  too  common  among  us,  and  will  end 
(unless  we  put  a  stop  to  it)  in  the  destruction  of  all  relig- 
ion. And  as  regards  witchcraft,  a  man  is  bound  either  to 
believe  in  it,  or  to  disbelieve  the  Bible.  For  even  in  the 
New  Testament,  discarding  many  things  of  the  Old,  such 
as  sacrifices,  and  sabbath,  and  fasting,  and  other  miseries, 
witchcraft  is  clearly  spoken  of  as  a  thing  that  must  con- 
tinue, that  the  Evil  One  be  not  utterly  robbed  of  his  vested 
interests.  Hence  let  no  one  tell  me  that  witchcraft  is  done 
away  with;  for  I  will  meet  him  with  St.  Paul,  than  whom 
no  better  man,  and  few  less  superstitious,  can  be  found  in 
all  the  Bible. 

Feeling  these  things  more  in  those  days  than  I  feel  them 
now,  1  fetched  a  goodish  compass  round  by  the  way  of  the 
Cloven  rocks,  rather  than  cross  Black  Barrow  Down  in  a 
reckless  and  unholy  manner.  There  were  seveml  spots 
upon  that  Down,  cursed,  and  smitten,  and  blasted,  as  if 
thunder-bolts  had  fallen  there,  and  Satan  sat  to  keep  them 


520  LORNA  BOONE. 

warm.  At  any  rate,  it  was  good  (as  every  one  acknowl- 
edged) not  to  wander  there  too  much,  even  with  a  doctor 
of  divinity  upon  one  arm,  and  of  medicine  upon  the  other. 

Therefore  I,  being  all  alone,  and  on  foot  (as  seemed  the 
wisest),  preferred  a  course  of  roundabout;  and  starting 
about  eight  o'clock,  without  mentioning  my  business, 
arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  deep  descent,  such  as  John 
Fry  described  it.  Now  this  (though  I  have  not  spoken  of 
it)  was  not  my  first  time  of  being  there.  For  although  I 
could  not  bring  myself  to  spy  upon  Uncle  Reuben  as 
John  Fry  had  done,  yet  I  thought  it  no  ill  manners,  after 
he  had  left  our  house,  to  have  a  look  at  the  famous  place 
where  the  malefactor  came  to  life,  at  least  in  John's 
opinion.  At  that  time,  however,  I  saw  nothing  except  the 
great  ugly  black  morass  with  the  grizzly  reeds  around  it; 
and  I  did  not  care  to  go  very  near  it,  much  less  to  pry  on 
the  further  side. 

Now,  on  the  other  hand,  I  was  bent  to  get  at  the  very 
bottom  of  this  mystery  (if  there  were  any),  having  less  fear 
of  witch  or  wizard,  with  a  man  of  Uncle  Reuben's  wealth 
to  take  my  part,  and  see  me  through.  So  I  rattled  the 
ramrod  down  my  gun,  just  to  know  if  the  charge  were 
right,  after  so  much  walking;  and  finding  it  full  six  inches 
deep,  as  I  like  to  have  it,  went  boldly  down  the  steep  gorge 
of  rock  with  a  firm  resolve  to  shoot  any  witch,  unless  it 
were  good  Mother  Melldrum.  Nevertheless,  to  my  surprise, 
all  was  quiet,  and  fair  to  look  at,  in  the  decline  of 
the  narrow  way,  with  great  stalked  ferns  coming  forth 
like  trees,  yet  hanging  like  cobwebs  over  one.  And  along 
one  side  a  little  spring  was  getting  rid  of  its  waters.  Any 
man  might  stop  and  think,  or  he  might  go  on  and  think; 
and  in  either  case,  there  was  none  to  say  that  he  was 
making  a  fool  of  himself. 

When  I  came  to  the  foot  of  this  ravine,  and  over  against 
the  great  black  slough,  there  was  no  sign  of  Master 
Huckaback,  nor  of  any  other  living  man,  except  myself, 
in  the  silence.  Therefore  I  sat  in  a  niche  of  rock,  gazing 
at  the  slough,  and  pondering  the  old  tradition  about  it. 

They  say  that,  in  the  ancient  times,  a  mighty  necro- 
mancer lived  in  the  wilderness  of  Exmoor.  Here,  by 
spell  and  incantation,  he  built  himself  a  strong,  high 
palace,  eight-sided  like  a  spider's  web,  and  standing  on  a 


MASTER  HUCKABACK'S  SECRET.  521 

central  steep;  so  that  neither  man  nor  beast  could  cross 
the  moor  without  his  knowledge.  If  he  wished  to  rob  and 
slay  a  traveler,  or  to  have  wild  ox  or  stag  for  food,  he  had 
nothing  more  to  do  than  sit  at  one  of  his  eight  windows, 
and  point  his  unholy  book  at  him.  Any  moving  creature 
at  which  that  book  was  pointed  must  obey  the  call,  and 
come  from  whatever  distance,  if  sighted  once  by  the 
wizard. 

This  was  a  bad  condition  of  things,  and  all  the  country 
groaned  under  it;  and  Exmoor  (although  the  most  honest 
place  that  a  man  could  wish  to  live  in)  was  beginning  to 
get  a  bad  reputation,  and  all  through  that  vile  wizard. 
No  man  durst  even  go  to  steal  a  sheep  or  a  pony,  or  so 
much  as  a  deer  for  dinner,  lest  he  should  be  brought  to 
book  by  a  far  bigger  rogue  than  he  was.  And  this  went  on 
for  many  years,  though  they  prayed  to  God  to  abate  it. 
But  at  last,  when  the  wizard  was  getting  fat  and  haughty 
upon  his  high  stomach,  a  mighty  deliverance  came  to  Ex- 
moor,  and  a  warning,  and  a  memory.  For  one  day  the 
sorcerer  gazed  from  his  window  facing  the  south-east  of  the 
compass;  and  he  yawned,  having  killed  so  many  men,  that 
now  he  was  weary  of  it. 

*'^Ifackins,"  he  cried,  or  some  such  oath,  both  profane 
and  uncomely,  "  I  see  a  man  on  the  verge  of  the  sky-line 
going  along  laboriously.  A  pilgrim,  I  trow,  or  some  such 
fool,  with  the  nails  of  his  boots  inside  them.  Too  thin  to 
be  worth  eating,  but  I  will  have  him  for  the  fun  of  the 
thing;  and  most  of  those  saints  have  got  money." 

With  these  words,  he  stretched  forth  his  legs  on  a  stool, 
and  pointed  the  book  of  heathenish  spells  back  upward  at 
the  pilgrim.  Now  this  good  pilgrim  was  plodding  along 
soberly  and  religiously,  with  a  pound  of  flints  in  either 
boot,  and  not  an  ounce  of  meat  inside  him.  He  felt  the 
spell  of  the  wicked  book,  but  only  as  a  horse  might  feel  a 
"geewug!"  addressed  to  him.  It  was  in  the  power  of  this 
good  man  either  to  go  on  or  turn  aside,  and  see  out  the 
wizard's  meaning.  And  for  a  moment  he  halted  and 
stood,  like  one  in  two  minds  about  a  thing.  Then  the 
wizard  clapped  one  cover  to,  in  a  jocular  and  insulting 
manner;  and  the  sound  of  it  came  to  the  pilgrim's  ear, 
about  five  miles  in  the  distance,  like  a  great  gun  fired  at 
him. 


522  LORJ^A  BOONE. 

*'  By  our  Lady,"  he  cried,  *'  I  must  see  to  this,  although 
my  poor  feet  have  no  skin  below  them.  I  will  teach  this 
heathen  miscreant  how  to  scoff  at  Glastonbury." 

Thereupon  he  turned  his  course,  and  plowed  along 
through  the  moors  and  bogs  toward  the  eight-sided  palace. 
The  wizard  sat  on  his  chair  of  comfort,  and  with  the 
rankest  contempt  observed  the  holy  man  plowing  toward 
him.  *'He  has  something  good  in  his  wallet,  1  trow," 
said  the  black  thief  to  himself;  "  these  fellows  get  always 
the  pick  of  the  wine,  and  the  best  of  a  woman's  money." 
Then  he  cried,  **  Come  in,  come  in,  good  sir,"  as  he  always 
did  to  every  one. 

'^Bad  sir,  I  will  not  come  in,"  said  the  pilgrim;  ''neither 
shall  you  come  out  again.  Here  are  the  bones  of  all  you 
have  slain,  and  here  shall  your  own  bones  be." 

*'  Hurry  me  not,"  cried  the  sorcerer;  *'  that  is  a  thing  to 
think  about.  How  many  miles  hast  thou  traveled  this 
day?" 

But  the  pilgrim  was  too  wide  awake;  for  if  he  had 
spoken  of  any  number  bearing  no  cross  upon  it,  the  necro- 
mancer would  have  had  him  like  a  ball  at  bando-play. 
Therefore  he  answered,  as  truly  as  need  be,  *'  By  the  grace 
of  our  Lady,  nine." 

Now  nine  is  the  crossest  of  all  cross  numbers,  and  full  to 
the  lip  of  all  crotchets.  So  the  wizard  staggered  back,  and 
thought,  and  inquired  again  with  bravery.  **  Where  can 
you  find  a  man  and  wife,  one  going  up  hill,  and  one  going 
down,  and  not  a  word  spoken  between  them  ?" 

**  In  a  cucumber-plant,"  said  the  modest  saint,  blushing 
even  to  think  of  it;  and  the  wizard  knew  he  was  done  for. 

**  You  have  tried  me  with  ungodly  questions,"  continued 
the  honest  pilgrim,  with  one  hand  still  over  his  eyes,  as  he 
thought  of  the  feminine  cucumber;  "and  now  I  will  ask 
you  a  pure  one.  To  whom  of  mankind  have  you  ever  done 
good  since  God  saw  fit  to  make  you?" 

The  wizard  thought,  but  could  quote  no  one;  and  he 
looked  at  the  saint,  and  the  saint  at  him,  and  both  tlieir 
hearts  were  trembling.  "  Can  you  mention  only  one?" 
asked  the  saint,  pointing  a  piece  of  the  true  cross  at  him, 
hoping  he  might  cling  to  it:  *^even  a  little  child  will  do: 
try  to  think  of  some  one." 

The  earth  was  rocking  beneath  their  feet,  and  the  palace 


UASrm  BVCKABAGK'S  SECRET,  523 

windows  darkened  on  them  with  a  tint  of  blood;  for  now 
the  saint  was  come  inside,  hoping  to  save  the  wizard. 

"  If  I  must  tell  the  pure  truth,"  said  the  wizard,  look- 
ing up  at  the  arches  of  his  windows,  "  I  can  tell  of  only 
one  to  whom  I  ever  have  done  good." 

*'One  will  do:  one  is  quite  enough:  be  quick  before  the 
ground  opens.  The  name  of  one,  and  this  cross  will  save 
you.     Lay  your  thumb  on  the  end  of  it." 

'*  Nay,  that  I  cannot  do,  great  saint.  The  devil  have 
mercy  upon  me!" 

All  this  while  the  palace  was  sinking,  and  blackness 
coming  over  them. 

"  Thou  hast  all  but  done  for  thyself,"  said  the  saint, 
with  a  glory  burning  round  his  head,  "by  that  last  invo- 
cation. Yet  give  us  tlie  name  of  the  one,  my  friend,  if 
one  there  be;  it  will  save  thee,  with  the  cross  upon  thy 
breast.  All  is  crashing  round  us;  dear  brother,  who  is 
that  one?" 

"My  own  self,"  cried  the  wretched  wizard. 

"Then  there  is  no  help  for  thee."  And  with  that  the 
honest  saint  went  upward,  and  the  wizard,  and  all  his 
palace,  and  even  the  crag  that  bore  it,  sunk  to  the  bowels 
of  the  earth;  and  over  them  was  nothing  left  except  a 
black  bog  fringed  with  reed,  of  the  tint  of  the  wizard's 
whiskers.  The  saint,  however,  was  all  right,  after  sleep- 
ing off  the  excitement,  and  he  founded  a  chapel  some  three 
miles  westward;  and  there  he  lies  with  his  holy  relic;  and 
thither  in  after-ages  came  (as  we  all  come  home  at  last) 
both  my  Lorna's  Aunt  Sabina,  and  her  guardian  Ensor 
Doone. 

While  yet  I  dwelt  upon  this  strange  story,  wondering  if 
it  all  were  true,  and  why  such  things  do  not  happen  now, 
a  man  on  horseback  appeared  as  suddenly  as  if  he  had 
risen  out  of  the  earth,  on  the  other  side  of  the  great  black 
slough.  At  first  I  was  a  little  scared,  my  mind  being  in 
the  tune  for  wonders;  but  presently  the  white  hair,  whiter 
from  the  blackness  of  the  bog  between  us,  showed  me  that 
it  was  Uncle  Reuben  come  to  look  for  me  that  way.  Then 
I  left  my  chair  of  rock,  and  waved  my  hat  and  shouted  to 
him,  and  the  sound  of  my  voice  among  the  crags  and 
lonely  corners  frightened  me. 

Old  Master  Huckaback  made  no  answer,  but  (so  fai'  as  I 


524  LORNA  DOONB.  ' 

coiild  guess)  beckoned  me  to  come  to  him.  There  was  just 
room  between  the  frmge  of  reed  and  the  belt  of  rock  around 
it  for  a  man  going  very  carefully  to  escape  that  horrible 
pit-hole.  And  so  I  went  round  to  the  other  side,  and  there 
found  open  space  enough,  with  stunted  bushes,  and  starve- 
ling trees,  and  straggling  tufts  of  ruslies. 

"  You  fool,  you  are  frightened,"  said  Uncle  Ben,  as  he 
looked  at  my  face  after  shaking  hands:  "  I  want  a  young 
man  of  steadfast  courage,  as  well  as  of  strength  and  silence. 
And  after  what  I  heard  of  the  battle  at  Glen  Doone,  I 
thought  I  might  trust  you  for  courage.'' 

'^  So  you  may,"  said  I,  "  wherever  I  see  mine  enemy; 
but  not  where  witch  and  wizard  be." 

"Tush,  great  fool  I"  cried  Master  Huckaback;  "  the  only 
witch  or  wizard  here  is  the  one  that  bewitcheth  all  men. 
Now  fasten  up  my  horse,  John  Ridd,  and  not  too  near  the 
slough;,  lad.  Ah!  we  have  chosen  our  entrance  wisely. 
Two  good  horsemen,  and  their  horses,  coming  hither  to 
spy  us  out,  are  gone  mining  on  their  own  account  (and 
their  last  account  it  is)  down  this  good  wizard's  bog-hole." 

With  these  words  Uncle  Reuben  clutched  the  mane  of 
his  horse  and  came  down,  as  a  man  does  when  his  legs  are 
old,  and  as  I  myself  begin  to  do  at  this  time  of  writing.  I 
offered  a  hand,  but  he  was  vexed,  and  would  have  naught 
to  do  with  it. 

*'  Now  follow  me,  step  for  step,"  he  said,  when  I  had 
tethered  his  horse  to  a  tree;  "  the  ground  is  not  death  (like 
the  wizard's  hole),  but  many  parts  are  treacherous.  I 
know  it  well  by  this  time." 

Without  any  more  ado,  he  led  me  in  and  out  the  marshy 
places  to  a  great  round  hole  or  shaft,  bratticed  up  with 
timber.  I  never  had  seen  the  like  before,  and  wondered 
how  they  could  want  a  well,  with  so  much  water  on  every 
side.  Around  the  mouth  were  a  few  little  heaps  of  stuff 
unused  to  the  daylight;  and  I  thought  at  once  nf  the  tales 
I  had  heard  concerning  mines  in  Cornwall,  and  the  silver 
cup  at  Combe-Martin,  sent  to  the  Queen  Elizabeth. 

*'Wehad  a  tree  across  it,  John,"  said  Uncle  Reuben, 
smiling  grimly  at  my  sudden  shrink  from  it:  "  but  some 
rogue  came  spying  here  just  as  one  of  our  men  went  up. 
He  was  frightened  half  out  of  his  life,  I  believe,  and  never 
ventured  to  come  again.     But  we  put  the  blame  of  that 


MASTER  HUCKABACK'S  SECRET.  525 

upon  you.  And  I  see  that  we  were  wrong,  John."  Here 
he  looked  at  me  with  keen  eyes,  though  weak. 

"  You  were  altogether  wrong,"  I  answered.  "  Am  I 
mean  enough  to  spy  upon  any  one  dwelling  with  us?  And 
more  than  that,  Uncle  Reuben,  it  was  mean  of  you  to  sup- 
pose if 

^'  All  ideas  are  different,"  replied  tlie  old  man  to  my 
heat,  like  a  little  worn-out  rill  running  down  a  smithy; 
'*  you  with  your  strength,  and  youth,  and  all  that,  are  in- 
clined to  be  romantic.  I  take  things  as  I  have  known  them, 
going  on  for  seventy  years.  Now  will  you  come  and  meet 
the  wizard,  or  does  your  courage  fail  you?" 

**  My  courage  must  be  none,"  said  I,  "  if  I  would  not  go 
where  you  go,  sir." 

He  said  no  more,  but  signed  to  me  to  lift  a  heavy  wooden 
corb  with  an  iron  loop  across  it,  and  sunk  in  a  little  pit  of 
earth,  a  yard  or  so  from  the  mouth  of  the  shaft.  I  raised 
it,  and  by  his  direction  dropped  it  into  the  throat  of  the 
shaft,  where  it  hung  and  shook  from  a  great  cross-beam 
laid  at  the  level  of  the  earth.  A  very  stout  thick  rope  was 
fastened  to  the  handle  of  the  corb,  and  ran  across  a  pulley 
hanging  from  the  center  of  the  beam,  and  thence  out  of 
sight  in  the  nether  places. 

*'I  will  first  descend,"  he  said;  ''your  weight  is  too  great 
for  safety.  When  the  bucket  comes  up  again,  follow  me, 
if  your  heart  is  good." 

Then  he  whistled  down,  with  a  quick,  sharp  noise,  and 
a  whistle  from  below  replied;  and  he  climbed  into  the 
vehicle,  and  the  rope  ran  through  the  pulley,  and  Uncle 
Ben  went  merrily  down,  and  was  out  of  sight  before  I  had 
time  to  think  of  him. 

Now,  being  left  on  the  bank  like  that,  and  in  full  sight 
of  the  goodly  heaven,  I  wrestled  hard  with  my  flesh  and 
blood  about  going  down  into  the  pit-hole.  And  but  for 
the  pale  shame  of  the  thing,  that  a  white-headed  man 
should  adventure  so,  and  green  youth  doubt  about  it, 
never  could  I  have  made  up  my  mind;  for  I  do  love  air 
and  heaven.  However,  at  last  up  came  the  bucket;  and 
with  a  short,  sad  prayer  I  went  into  whatever  might 
happen. 

My  teeth  would  chatter,  do  all  I  could;  but  the  strength 
of  my  arras  was  with  me;  and  by  them  I  held  on  the  grimy 


526  LORNA  noONE. 

rope*  and  so  eased  the  foot  of  the  corb,  which  threatened 
to  go  away  fathoms  under  me.  Of  course  1  should  still 
have  been  safe  enough,  being  like  an  egg  in  an  egg  cup, 
too  big  to  care  for  the  bottom;  still  I  wished  that  all 
should  be  done  in  good  order,  without  excitement. 

The  scoopings  of  the  side  grew  black,  and  the  patch  of 
sky  above  more  blue,  as,  with  many  thoughts  of  Lorna,  a 
long  way  under  ground  I  sunk.  Then  I  was  fetched  up  at 
the  bottom  with  a  jerk  and  rattle;  and  but  for  holding  by 
the  rope  so,  must  have  tumbled  over.  Two  great  torches 
of  bale-resin  showed  me  all  the  darkness,  one  being  held 
by  Uncle  Ben,  and  the  other  by  a  short,  square  man,  with 
a  face  which  seemed  well  known  to  me. 

"  Hail  to  the  world  of  gold,  John  Ridd,''  said  Master 
Huckaback,  smiling  in  the  old  dry  manner;  ^*  bigger 
coward  never  came  down  the  shaft,  now  did  he.  Carfax?" 

"  They  be  all  alike,"  said  the  short,  square  man,  *'fust 
time  as  they  does  it." 

'^  May  I  go  to  heaven,"  I  cried,  **  which  is  a  thing  quite 
out  of  sight" — for  I  always  have  a  vein  of  humor,  too 
small  to  be  followed  by  any  one — '^  if  ever  again  of  my  own 
accord  I  go  so  far  away  from  it!"  Uncle  Ben  grinned 
less  at  this  than  at  the  way  I  knocked  my  shin  in  getting 
out  of  the  bucket;  and  as  for  Master  Carfax,  he  would  not 
even  deign  to  smile.  And  he  seemed  to  look  upon  my 
entrance  as  an  interloping. 

For  my  part,  I  had  naught  to  do  after  rubbing  my 
bruised  leg,  except  to  look  about  me,  so  far  as  the  dullness 
of  light  would  help.  And  herein  I  seemed,  like  a  mouse 
in  a  trap,  able  no  more  than  to  run  to  and  fro,  and  knock 
himself,  and  stare  at  things.  For  here  was  a  little  chan- 
nel grooved  with  posts  on  either  side  of  it,  and  ending  with 
a  heap  of  darkness,  whence  the  sight  came  back  again;  and 
there  was  a  scooped  place,  like  a  funnel,  but  pouring  only 
to  darkness.  So  I  waited  for  somebody  to  speak  first,  not 
seeing  my  way  to  anything. 

"  You  seem  to  be  disappointed,  John,"  said  Uncle 
Reuben,  looking  blue  by  the  light  of  the  flambeaux;  ''did 
you  expect  to  see  the  roof  of  gold,  and  the  sides  of  gold, 
and  the  floor  of  gold,  John  Ridd?" 

*'Ha,  ha!"  cried  Master  Carfax;  ''  I  reckon  her  did;  no 
doubt  her  did." 


MASTER  HUCEABACK'8  SECRET,  62? 

"You  are  wrong/^  I  replied:  "but  I  did  expect  to  see 
something  better  than  dirt  and  darkness/' 

*'  Come  on,  tiien,  my  lad,  and  we  will  show  you  some- 
thing better.  We  want  your  great  arm  on  here,  for  a  job 
that  has  beaten  the  whole  of  us/' 

With  these  words  Uncle  Ben  led  the  way  along  a  narrow 
passage,  roofed  with  rock  and  floored  with  slate-colored 
shale  and  shingle,  and  winding  in  and  out,  until  we  stopped 
at  a  great  stone  block,  or  bowlder,  lying  across  the  floor, 
and  as  large  as  my  mother*s  best  oaken  wardrobe.  Beside 
it  were  several  sledge-hammers,  battered,  and  some  with 
broken  helves. 

*'Thou  great  villain!"  cried  Uncle  Ben,  giving  the 
bowlder  a  little  kick;  "I  believe  thy  time  is  come  at  last. 
Now,  John,  give  us  a  sample  of  the  things  they  tell  of 
thee.  Take  the  biggest  of  them  sledge-hammers  and 
crack  this  rogue  in  two  for  us.  We  have  tried  at  him  for 
a  fortnight,  and  he  is  a  nut  worth  cracking.  But  we  have 
no  man  who  can  swing  that  hammer,  though  all  in  the 
mine  have  handled  it." 

**  I  will  do  my  very  best,"  said  I,  pulling  off  my  coat  and 
waistcoat,  as  if  I  were  going  to  wrestle;  *'  but  I  fear  he 
will  prove  too  tough  for  me. 

"  Ay,  that  her  wull,"  gi-unted  Master  Carfax;  "lack'th 
a  Carnishman,  and  a  beg  one  too,  not  a  little  charp  such  as 
I  be.  There  be  no  man  outside  Carnwall  as  can  crack  that 
boolder." 

"  Bless  my  heart,"  I  answered,  "  but  I  know  something 
of  you,  my  friend,  or  at  any  rate  of  your  family.  Well,  1 
have  beaten  most  of  your  Cornishmen,  though  not  my 
place  to  talk  of  it.  But  mind,  if  I  crack  this  rock  for  you, 
I  must  have  some  of  the  gold  inside  it." 

**  Dost  think  to  see  the  gold  come  tumbling  out  like  the 
kernel  of  a  nut,  thou  zany?"  asked  Uncle  Reuben,  pet- 
tishly: "now  wilt  thou  crack  it,  or  wilt  thou  not?  For  I 
believe  thou  canst  do  it,  though  only  a  lad  of  Somerset." 

Uncle  Reuben  showed  by  saying  this,  and  by  his  glance 
at  Carfax,  that  he  was  proud  of  his  country,  and  would  be 
disappointed  for  it,  if  I  failed  to  crack  the  bowlder.  So  I 
begged  him  to  stoop  his  torch  a  little,  that  I  might  examine 
my  subject.  To  me  there  appeared  to  be  nothing  at  all 
remarkable  about  it,  except   that  it  sparkled  here  and 


52B  LORlTA  DOONE. 

there,  when  the  flash  of  the  flame  fell  upon  it.  A  great, 
obstinate,  oblong,  sullen  stone:  how  could  it  be  worth  the 
breaking,  except  for  making  roads  with? 

Nevertheless  I  took  up  the  hammer,  and,  swinging  it 
far  behind  my  head,  fetched  it  down,  with  all  my  power, 
upon  the  middle  of  the  rock.  The  roof  above  rung 
mightily,  and  the  echo  went  down  delven  galleries,  so  that 
all  the  miners  flocked  to  know  what  might  be  doing.  But 
Master  Carfax  only  smiled,  although  the  blow  shook  him 
where  he  stood;  for  behold  the  stone  was  still  unbroken, 
and  as  firm  as  ever.  Then  I  smote  it  again  with  no  better 
fortune,  and  Uncle  Ben  looked  vexed  and  angry;  but  all 
the  miners  grinned  with  triumph. 

"  This  little  tool  is  too  light,"  I  cried;  "  one  of  you  give 
me  a  piece  of  strong  cord.*' 

Then  I  took  two  more  of  the  weightiest  hammers,  and 
lashed  them  fast  to  the  back  of  mine,  not  so  as  to  strike, 
but  to  burden  the  fall.  Having  made  this  firm,  and  with 
room  to  grasp  the  handle  of  the  largest  one  only — for  the 
helves  of  the  others  were  shorter — I  smiled  at  Uncle  Ben, 
and  whirled  the  mighty  implement  round  my  head,  just  to 
1?i-y  whether  I  could  manage  it.  Upon  that  the  miners 
gave  a  cheer,  being  honest  men,  and  desirous  of  seeing  fair 
play  between  this  ** shameless  stone"  (as  Dan  Homer  calls 
it)  and  me  with  my  hammer  hammering. 

Then  I  swung  me  on  nigh  to  the  swing  of  the  sledge,  as 
a  thresher  bends  back  to  the  rise  of  his  flail,  and  with  all 
my  power  descending  delivered  the  ponderous  onset. 
Crashing  and  crushed,  the  great  stone  fell  over,  and 
threads  of  sparkling  gold  appeared  in  the  jagged  sides  of 
the  breakage. 

*'  How  now,  Simon  Carfax?"  cried  Uncle  Ben,  triumph- 
antly; "  wilt  thou  find  a  man  in  Cornwall  can  do  the  like 
of  that?" 

'^Ay,  and  more,"  he  answered;  "however,  it  be  pretty 
fair  for  a  lad  of  these  outlandish  parts.  Get  your  rollers, 
my  lads,  and  lead  it  to  the  crushing-engine." 

I  was  glad  to  have  been  of  some  service  to  them;  for  it 
seems  that  this  great  bowlder  had  been  too  large  to  be 
drawn  along  the  gallery,  and  too  hard  to  crack.  But  now 
they  moved  it  very  easily,  taking  piece  by  piece,  and 
carefully  picking  up  the  fragments. 


MASTER  HUGKABACk'S  bEURJ^T,  529 

''  Thou  hast  done  us  a  good  turn,  my  lad,"  said  Uncle 
Reuben,  as  the  others  passed  out  of  sight  at  the  corner; 
"  and  now  I  will  show  thee  the  bottom  of  a  very  wondrous 
mystery.  But  we  must  not  do  it  more  than  once,  for  the 
time  of  day  is  the  wrong  one." 

The  whole  affair  being  a  mystery  to  me,  and  far  beyond 
my  understanding,  I  followed  him  softly  without  a  word, 
yet  thinking  very  heavily,  and  longing  to  be  above- 
ground  again.  He  led  me  through  small  passages  to  a 
hollow  place  near  the  descending  shaft,  where  I  saw  a  most 
extraordinary  monster  fitted  up.  In  form  it  was  like  a 
great  coffee-mill,  such  as  I  had  seen  in  London,  only  a 
thousand  times  larger,  and  with  a  heavy  windlass  to 
work  it. 

"Put  in  a  barrow-load  of  the  smoulder,"  said  Uncle 
Ben  to  Carfax,  *'  and  let  them  work  the  crank,  for  John  to 
understand  a  thing  or  two." 

"At  this  time  of  day!''  cried  Simon  Carfax;  "and  the 
watching  as  has  been  o'  late!" 

However,  he  did  it  without  more  remonstrance,  pouring 
into  the  scuttle  at  the  top  of  the  machine  about  a  basketful 
of  broken  rock;  and  then  a  dozen  men  went  to  the  wheel, 
and  forced  it  round  as  sailors  do.  Upon  that  such  a 
hideous  noise  arose  as  I  never  should  have  believed  any 
creature  capable  of  making;  and  I  ran  to  the  well  of  the 
mine  for  air;  and  to  ease  my  ears,  if  possible. 

"Enough,  enough!"  shouted  Uncle  Ben,  by  the  time  I 
was  nearly  deafened;  "  we  will  digest  our  goodly  bowlder 
after  the  devil  is  come  abroad  for  hisevening  work.  Now, 
John,  not  a  word  about  what  you  have  learned,  but  hence- 
forth you  will  not  be  frightened  by  the  noise  we  make  at 
dusk." 

I  could  not  deny  but  what  this  was  very  clever  manage- 
ment. If  they  could  not  keep  the  echoes  of  the  upper  air 
from  moving,  the  wisest  plan  was  to  open  their  valves 
during  the  discouragement  of  the  falling  evening;  when 
folk  would  rather  be  driven  away,  than  drawn  into  the 
wilds  and  quagmires,  by  a  sound  so  deep  and  awful  coming 
through  the  darkness. 


530  lOBNA  DOONE. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 

LORNA   GONE  AWAY. 

Although  there  are  very  ancient  tales  of  gold  being  found 
upon  Exmoor,  in  lumps  and  solid  hummocks,  and  of  men 
who  slew  one  another  for  it,  this  deep  digging  and  great 
labor  seemed  to  me  a  dangerous  and  unholy  enterprise. 
And  Master  Huckaback  confessed  that  up  to  the  present 
time  his  two  partners  and  himself  (for  they  proved  to  be 
three  adventurers)  had  put  into  the  earth  more  gold  than 
they  had  taken  out  of  it.  Nevertheless  he  felt  quite  sure 
that  it  must  in  a  very  short  time  succeed,  and  pay  them 
back  an  hundred-fold;  and  he  pressed  me  with  great 
earnestness  to  join  them,  and  work  there  as  much  as  I 
could,  without  moving  my  mother^s  suspicions.  I  asked 
him  how  they  had  managed  so  long  to  carry  on  without 
discovery;  and  he  said  that  this  was  partly  through  the 
wildness  of  the  neighborhood,  and  the  legends  that 
frightened  people  of  a  superstitious  turn;  partly  tii rough 
their  own  great  caution,  and  manner  of  fetching  both 
supplies  and  implements  by  night;  but,  most  of  all,  they 
had  to  thank  the  troubles  of  the  period,  the  suspicions  of 
rebellion,  and  the  terror  of  the  Doones,  which  (like  the 
wizard  I  was  speaking  of)  kept  folk  from  being  too  inquisi- 
tive where  they  had  no  business.  The  slough,  moreover, 
had  helped  them  well,  both  by  making  their  access  dark, 
and  yet  more  by  swallowing  up  and  concealing  all  that 
was  cast  from  the  mouth  of  the  pit.  Once,  before  the 
attack  on  Glen  Doone,  they  had  a  narrow  escape  from  the 
King's  Commissioner;  for  Captain  Stickles,  having  heard, 
no  doubt,  the  story  of  John  Fry,  went  with  half  a  dozen 
troopers  on  purpose  to  search  the  neighborhood.  Now  if 
he  had  ridden  alone,  most  likely  he  would  have  discovered 
everything;  but  he  feared  to  venture  so,  having  suspicion 
of  a  trap.     Coming  as  they  did  in  a  company,  all  mounted 


LORNA  GONE  AWAT.  631 

and  conspicuous,  the  watchman  (who  was  posted  now  on 
the  top  of  the  hill,  almost  every  day,  since  John  Fry's 
appearance)  could  not  help  espying  them,  miles  distant, 
over  the  moor-land.  He  watched  them  under  the  shade  of 
his  hand,  and  presently  ran  down  the  hill,  and  raised  a 
great  commotion.  Then  Simon  Carfax  and  all  his  men 
came  up,  and  made  things  natural,  removing  every  sign  of 
work;  and  finally,  sinking  underground,  drew  across  the 
mouth  of  the  pit  a  hurdle  thatched  with  sedge  and  heather. 
Only  Simon  himself  was  left  behind,  ensconced  in  a  hole 
of  the  ci-ags,  to  observe  the  doings  of  the  enemy. 

Captain  Stickles  rode  very  bravely,  with  all  his  men 
clattering  after  him,  down  the  rocky  pass,  and  even  to  the 
margin  of  the  slough.  And  there  they  stopped,  and  held 
council,  for  it  was  a  perilous  thing  to  risk  the  passage 
upon  horseback  between  the  treacherous  brink  and  the 
cliff,  unless  one  knew  it  thoroughly.  Stickles,  however, 
and  one  follower,  carefully  felt  the  way  along,  having  their 
horses  well  in  hand,  and  bearing  a  rope  to  draw  them  out, 
in  case  of  being  foundered.  Then  they  spurred  across  the 
rough  boggy  land  farther  away  than  the  shaft  was.  Here 
the  ground  lay  jagged  and  shaggy,  wrought  up  with  high 
tufts  of  reed,  or  scragged  with  stunted  brush-wood.  And 
between  the  ups  and  downs  (which  met  any  body  anyhow) 
green-covered  places  tempted  the  foot,  and  black  bog-holes 
discouraged  it.  It  is  not  to  be  marveled  at  that  amid 
such  place  as  this,  for  the  first  time  visited,  the  horses  were 
a  little  scary;  and  their  riders  partook  of  the  feeling,  as 
all  good  riders  do.  In  and  out  the  tufts  they  went,  with 
their  eyes  dilating,  wishing  to  be  out  of  harm,  if  conscience 
were  but  satisfied.  And  of  this  tufty,  flaggy  ground, 
pocked  with  bogs  and  boglets,  one  especial  nature  is  that  it 
will  not  hold  impressions. 

Seeing  thus  no  track  of  men,  nor  anything  but  marsh- 
work,  and  storm-work,  and  of  the  seasons,  these  two 
honest  men  rode  back,  and  were  glad  to  do  so.  For  above 
them  hung  the  mountains,  cowled  with  fog  and  seamed 
with  storm,  and  around  them  desolation,  and  below  their 
feet  the  grave.  Hence,  they  went,  with  all  good-will,  and 
vowed  forever  afterward  that  fear  of  a  simple  place  like 
that  was  only  too  ridiculous.  So  they  all  rode  home  with 
mutual  praises,  and  their  courage  well  approved;  and  the 


532  LORNA  DOONE. 

only  result  of  the  expedition  was  to  confirm  John  Fry's 
repute  as  a  bigger  liar  than  ever. 

Now,  I  had  enough  of  that  underground  work,  as  before 
related,  to  last  me  for  a  year  to  come;  neither  would  I,  for 
sake  of  gold,  have  ever  stepped  into  that  bucket  of  my  own 
good-will  again.  But  when  I  told  Lorna — whom  I  could 
trust  in  any  matter  of  secrecy  as  if  she  had  never  been  a 
woman — all  about  my  great  descent,  and  the  honeycomb- 
ing of  the  earth,  and  the  mournful  noise  at  even-tide,  when 
the  gold  was  under  the  crusher,  and  bewailing  the  mischief 
it  must  do,  then  Lorna^s  chief  desire  was  to  know  more 
about  Simon  Carfax. 

*'It  must  be  our  Gwenny's  father,^'  she  cried;  '^the 
man  who  disappeared  underground,  and  whom  she  has 
ever  been  seeking.  How  grieved  the  poor  little  thing  will 
be  if  it  should  turn  out,  after  all,  that  he  left  his  child  on 
purpose!     I  can  hardly  believe  it;  can  you,  John?" 

''  Well,"  I  replied,  "all  men  are  wicked,  more  or  less, 
to  some  extent,  and  no  man  may  say  otherwise." 

For  I  did  not  wish  to  commit  myself  to  an  opinion 
about  Simon,  lest  I  might  be  wrong  and  Lorna  think  less 
of  my  judgment. 

But  being  resolved  to  see  this  out,  and  do  a  good  turn, 
if  I  could,  to  Gwenny,  who  had  done  me  many  a  good  one, 
I  begged  my  Lorna  to  say  not  a  word  of  this  matter  to  the 
handmaiden  until  I  had  further  searched  it  out.  And  to 
carry  out  this  resolve,  I  went  again  to  the  place  of  business, 
where  they  were  grinding  gold  as  freely  as  an  apothecary 
at  his  pills. 

Having  now  true  right  of  entrance,  and  being  known  to 
the  watchman,  and  regarded  (since  I  cracked  the  bowlder) 
as  one  who  could  pay  his  footing,  and  perhaps  would  be 
the  master  when  Uncle  Ben  should  be  choked  with 
money,  I  found  the  corb  sent  up  for  me  rather  sooner  than 
I  wished  it.  For  the  smell  of  the  places  underground,  and 
the  way  men's  eyes  come  out  of  them,  with  links,  and 
brands,  and  flambeaux,  instead  of  God's  light  to  look  at, 
were  to  me  a  point  of  caution  rather  than  of  pleasure. 

No  doubt  but  what  some  men  enjoy  it,  being  born,  like 
worms,  to  dig,  and  to  live  in  their  own  scoopings.  Yet 
even  the  worms  come  up  sometimes,  after  a  good  soft 
shower  of    rain,  and  hold  discourse  with  one  another; 


LORN  A  GONE  AWAY.  633 

whereas  these  men,  and  the  horses  let  down,  come  above- 
ground  never. 

And  the  changing  of  the  sky  is  half  the  change  our 
nature  calls  for.  Earth  we  have,  and  all  its  produce 
(moving  from  the  first  appearance,  and  the  hope  with 
infant's  eyes,  through  the  bloom  of  beauty's  promise,  to 
the  rich  and  bright  fulfillment,  and  the  falling  back  to 
rest);  sea  we  have  (with  all  its  wonder  shed  on  eyes,  and 
ears,  and  heart;  and  the  thought  of  something  more) — but 
without  the  sky  to  look  at,  what  would  earth,  and  sea,  and 
even  our  own  selves,  be  to  us? 

Do  we  look  at  earth  with  hope?  Yes,  for  victuals  only. 
Do  we  look  at  sea  with  hope!  Yes,  that  we  mayescape  it. 
At  the  sky  alone  (though  questioned  with  the  doubts  of 
sunshine,  or  scattered  with  uncertain  stars),  at  the  sky 
alone  we  look,  with  pure  hope  and  with  memory. 

Hence  it  always  hurt  my  feelings  when  I  got  into  that 
bucket,  with  my  small-clothes  turned  up  over,  and  a 
'kerchief  round  my  hat.  But  knowing  that  my  purpose 
was  sound,  and  my  motives  pure,  I  let  the  sky  grow  to  a 
little  blue  hole,  and  then  to  nothing  over  me.  At  the 
bottom  Master  Carfax  met  me,  being  captain  of  the  mine, 
and  desirous  to  know  my  business.  He  wore  a  loose  sack 
round  his  shoulders,  and  his  beard  was  two  feet  long. 

*'My  business  is  to  speak  with  you,"  I  answered,  rather 
sternly;  for  this  man,  who  was  nothing  more  than  Uncle 
Reuben's  servant,  had  carried  things  too  far  with  me, 
showing  no  respect  whatever;  and  though  I  do  not  care  for 
much,  I  liked  to  receive  a  little,  even  in  my  early  days. 

''Coom  into  the  muck-hole,  then,"  was  his  gracious 
answer;  and  he  led  me  into  a  filthy  cell,  where  the  miners 
changed  their  jackets. 

''Simon  Carfax,"  I  began,  with  a  manner  to  dis- 
courage him,  '*  I  fear  you  are  a  shallow  fellow,  and  not 
worth  my  trouble." 

"  Then  don't  take  it,"  he  replied;  "  I  want  no  man's 
trouble." 

"  For  your  sake  I  would  not,"  I  answered;  "  but  for  your 
daughter's  sake  I  will;  the  daughter  whom  you  left  to 
starve  so  pitifully  in  the  wilderness." 

The  man  stared  at  me  with  his  pale  gray  eyes,  whose 
color  was  lost  from  candle-light;  and  his  voice  as  well  as 
his  body  shook,  while  he  cried: 


534  LORNA  BOONE, 

*'  It  is  a  lie,  man.  No  daughter  and  no  son  have  I.  Nor 
was  ever  child  of  mine  left  to  starve  in  the  wilderness.  You 
are  too  big  for  me  to  tackle,  and  that  makes  you  a  coward 
for  saying  it."  His  hands  were  playing  with  a  pickax-helve, 
as  if  he  longed  to  have  me  under  it. 

"  Perhaps  I  have  wronged  you,  Simon,"  I  answered,  very 
softly;  for  the  sweat  upon  his  forehead  shone  in  the  smoky 
torch-light:  'Mf  I  have,  I  crave  your  pardon.  But  did 
you  not  bring  up  from  Cornwall  a  little  maid  named 
*  Gwenny,'  and  supposed  to  be  your  daughter?" 

**  Ay,  and  she  was  my  daughter,  my  last  and  only  child 
of  five;  and  for  her  I  would  give  this  mine,  and  all  the  gold 
will  ever  come  from  it." 

'*■  You  shall  have  her,  without  either  mine  or  gold,  if  you 
only  prove  to  me  that  you  did  not  abandon  her." 

"Abandon  her!  I  abandon  Gwenny!"  He  cried,  with 
such  a  rage  of  scorn,  that  I  at  once  believed  him.  *'  They 
told  me  she  was  dead,  and  crushed,  and  buried  in  the  drift 
here;  and  half  my  heart  died  with  her.  The  Almighty 
blast  their  mining- work,  if  the  scoundrels  lied  to  me!" 

'^  The  scoundrels  must  have  lied  to  you,"  I  answered, 
with  a  spirit  fired  by  his  heat  of  fury;  '^  the  maid  is  living, 
and  with  us.     Come  up,  and  you  shall  see  her." 

**Rig  the  bucket!"  he  shouted  out  along  the  echoing 
gallery;  and  then  he  fell  against  the  wall,  and  through  the 
grimy  sack  I  saw  the  heaving  of  his  breast,  as  I  have  seen 
my  opponent's  chest  in  a  long,  hard  bout  of  wrestling.  For 
my  part,  I  could  do  no  more  than  hold  my  tongue  and 
look  at  him. 

Without  another  word  we  rose  to  the  level  of  the  moors 
and  mires;  neither  would  Master  Carfax  speak,  as  I  led 
him  across  the  barrows.  In  this  he  was  welcome  to  his 
own  way,  for  I  do  love  silence,  so  little  harm  can  come 
of  it.  And  though  Gwenny  was  no  beauty,  her  father 
might  be  fond  of  her. 

So  I  put  him  in  the  cow-house  (not  to  frighten  the  little 
maid),  and  the  folding  shutters  over  him,  such  as  we  used 
at  the  beestings;  and  he  listened  to  my  voice  outside,  and 
held  on,  and  preserved  himself.  For  now  he  would  have 
scooped  the  earth  as  cattle  do  at  yearning-time,  and  as 
meekly  and  as  patiently,  to  have  his  child  restored  to  him. 
Not  to  make  long  tale  of  it — for  this  thing  is  beyond  me, 


LORNA  GONE  A  WA  Y.  535 

through  want  of  true  experience — I  went  and  fetched  his 
Gwenny  forth  from  the  back  kitchen,  where  she  was  fight- 
ing, as  usual,  with  our  Betty. 

'*  Come  along,  you  little  Vick,"  I  said,  for  so  we  called 
her;  "  I  have  a  message  to  you,  Gwenny,  from  the  Lord  in 
Heaven." 

*'  Don't  'ee  talk  about  He,'*  she  answered.  "  Her  have 
long  forgatten  me." 

"  That  He  has  never  done,  you  stupid.  Come  and  see 
who  is  in  the  cow-house." 

Gwenny  knew;  she  knew  in  a  moment.  Looking  into 
my  eyes,  she  knew;  and  hanging  back  from  me  to  sigh, 
she  knew  it  even  better. 

She  had  not  much  elegance  of  emotion,  being  flat  and 
square  all  over;  but  none  the  less  for  that  her  heart  came 
quick,  and  her  words  came  slowly. 

**  Oh,  Jan,  you  are  too  good  to  cheat  me.  Is  it  joke  you 
are  putting  upon  me?" 

I  answered  her  with  a  gaze  alone;  and  she  tucked  up  her 
clothes  and  followed  me,  because  the  road  was  dirty.  Then 
I  opened  the  door  just  wide  enough  for  the  child  to  go  to 
her  father,  and  left  those  two  to  have  it  out,  as  might  be 
most  natural.     And  they  took  a  long  time  about  it. 

Meanwhile  I  needs  must  go  and  tell  my  Lorna  all  the 
matter;  and  her  joy  was  almost  as  great  as  if  she  herself 
had  found  a  father.  And  the  wonder  of  the  whole  Avas 
this,  that  I  got  all  the  credit,  of  which  not  a  thousandth 
part  belonged  by  right  and  reason  to  me.  Yet  so  it 
almost  always  is.  If  I  work  for  good  desert,  and  slave,  and 
lie  awake  at  night,  and  spend  my  unborn  life  in  dreams, 
not  a  blink,  nor  wink,  nor  inkling  of  my  labor  ever  tells. 
It  would  have  been  better  to  leave  unburned,  and  to  keep 
undevoured,  the  fuel  and  the  food  of  life.  But  if  I  have 
labored  not,  only  acted  by  some  impulse,  whim,  caprice,  or 
anything,  or  even  acting  not  at  all,  only  letting  things 
float  by,  piled  upon  me  commendations,  bravoes,  and 
applauses,  almost  work  me  up  to  tempt  once  again  (though 
sick  of  it)  the  ill-luck  of  deserving. 

Without  intending  any  harm,  and  meaning  only  good 
in  deed,  I  had  now  done  serious  wrong  to  Uncle  Reuben's 
prospects.  For  Captain  Carfax  was  full  as  angry  at  the 
trick  played  on  him,  as  he  was  happy  in  discovering  the 


536  LORNA  DOONE, 

falsehood  and  the  fraud  of  it.  Nor  could  I  help  agreeing 
with  him,  when  he  told  me  all  of  it,  as  with  tears  in  his 
eyes  he  did,  and  ready  to  be  my  slave  henceforth.  I  could 
not  forbear  from  owning  that  it  was  a  low  and  heartless 
trick,  unworthy  of  men  who  had  families;  and  the  recoil 
Avhereof  was  well  deserved,  whatever  it  might  end  in. 

For  when  this  poor  man  left  his  daughter  asleep,  as  he 
supposed,  and  having  his  food,  and  change  of  clothes,  and 
Sunday  hat  to  see  to,  he  meant  to  return  in  an  hour  or  so, 
and  settle  about  her  sustenance  in  some  house  of  the  neigh- 
borhood. But  this  was  the  very  thing  of  all  things  which 
the  leaders  of  the  enterprise,  who  had  brought  him  up  from 
Cornwall,  for  his  noted  skill  in  metals,  were  determined, 
whether  by  fair  means  or  foul,  to  stop  at  the  very  outset. 
Secrecy  being  their  main  object,  what  chance  could  there 
be  of  it  if  the  miners  were  allowed  to  keep  their  children 
in  the  neighborhood?  Hence,  on  the  plea  of  feasting 
Simon,  they  kept  him  drunk  for  three  days  and  three 
nights,  assuring  him  (whenever  he  had  gleams  enough  to 
ask  for  her)  that  his  daughter  was  as  well  as  could  be,  and 
enjoying  herself  with  the  children.  Not  wishing  the  maid 
to  see  him  tipsy,  he  pressed  the  matter  no  further,  but 
applied  himself  to  the  bottle  again,  and  drank  her  health 
with  pleasure. 

However,  after  three  days  of  this,  his  constitution  rose 
against  it,  and  he  became  quite  sober;  with  a  certain  low- 
ness  of  heart,  moreover,  and  a  sense  of  error.  And  his 
first  desire  to  right  himself,  and  easiest  way  to  do  it,  was 
by  exerting  parental  authority  upon  Gwenny.  Possessed 
with  this  intention  (for  he  was  not  a  sweet-tempered  man, 
and  his  head  was  aching  sadly),  he  sought  for  Gwenny  high 
and  low;  first  with  threats,  and  then  with  fears,  and  then 
with  tears  and  wailing.  And  so  he  became  to  the  other 
men  a  warning  and  great  annoyance.  Therefore  they 
combined  to  swear  what  seemed  a  very  likely  thing,  and 
might  be  true,  for  all  they  knew;  to-wit,  that  Gwenny  had 
come  to  seek  for  her  father  down  the  shaft-hole,  and  peer- 
ing too  eagerly  into  the  dark,  had  toppled  forward  and 
gone  down,  and  lain  at  the  bottom  as  dead  as  a  stone. 

''  And  thou  being  so  happy  with  drink,"  the  villains 
finished  up  to  him,  ''and  getting  drunker  every  day,  we 
thought  it  shame  to  trouble  thee;  and.  we  buried  the  wench 


LORNA  GONE  A  WA  T.  637 

in  the  lower  drift;  and  no  use  to  think  more  of  her,  but 
come  and  have  a  glass,  Sim." 

But  Simon  Carfax  swore  that  drink  had  lost  him  his 
wife,  and  now  had  lost  him  the  last  of  his  five  children, 
and  would  lose  him  his  own  soul,  if  further  he  went  on 
with  it;  and  from  that  day  to  his  death  he  never  touched 
strong  drink  again.  Nor  only  this,  but  being  soon  appointed 
captain  of  the  mine,  he  allowed  no  man  on  any  pretext  to 
bring  cordials  thither;  and  to  this,  and  his  stern  hard  rule, 
and  stealthy  secret  management  (as  much  as  to  good  luck 
and  place),  might  it  be  attributed  that  scarcely  any  but 
themselves  had  dreamed  about  this  Exmoor  mine. 

As  for  me,  I  had  no  ambition  to  become  a  miner;  and 
the  state  to  which  gold-seeking  had  brought  poor  Uncle 
Ben  was  not  at  all  encouraging.  My  business  was  to  till 
the  ground,  and  tend  the  growth  that  came  of  it,  and  store 
the  fruit  in  Heaven's  good  time,  rather  than  to  scoop  and 
burrow  like  a  weasel  or  a  rat  for  the  yellow  root  of  evil. 
Moreover,  I  was  led  from  home  between  the  hay  and  corn 
harvests  (when  we  often  have  a  week  to  spare),  by  a  call 
there  was  no  resisting,  unless  I  gave  up  all  regard  for 
wrestling,  and  for  my  county. 

Now  here  many  persons  may  take  me  amiss,  and  there 
always  has  been  some  confusion,  which  people  who  ought 
to  have  known  better  have  wrought  into  subject  of  quarrel- 
ing. By  birth  it  is  true,  and  caunot  be  denied,  that  I  am 
a  man  of  Somerset;  nevertheless,  by  breed  I  am,  as  well  as 
by  education,  a  son  of  Devon  also.  And  just  as  both  our 
two  counties  vowed  that  Glen  Doone  was  none  of  theirs, 
but  belonged  to  the  other  one,  so  now,  each  with  hot  claim 
and  jangling  (leading  even  to  blows  sometimes),  asserted, 
and  would  swear  to  it  (as  I  became  more  famous),  that 
John  Ridd  was  of  its  own  producing,  bred  of  its  own  true 
blood,  and  basely  stolen  by  the  other. 

Now  I  have  not  judged  it  in  any  way  needful,  or  even 
becoming  or  delicate,  to  enter  into  my  wrestling  adventures., 
or  describe  my  progress.  The  whole  thing  is  so  different 
from  Lorna,  and  her  gentle  manners,  and  her  style  of 
walking;  moreover,  I  must  seem  (even  to  kind  people)  to 
magnify  myself  so  much,  or  at  least  attempt  to  do  it,  that 
I  have  scratched  out  written  pages,  through  my  better 
taste  and  sense. 


538  LORNA  DOONE, 

Neither  will  I,  upon  this  head,  make  any  difference  even 
now;  being  simply  betrayed  into  mentioning  the  matter, 
because  bare  truth  requires  it,  in  the  tale  of  Lorna's 
fortunes. 

For  a  mighty  giant  had  arisen  in  a  part  of  Cornwall,  and 
his  calf  was  twenty-five  inches  round,  and  the  breadth  of 
his  shoulders  two  feet  and  a  quarter,  and  his  stature  seven 
feet  and  three-quarters.  Round  the  chest  he  was  seventy 
inches,  and  his  hand  a  foot  across,  and  there  were  no  scales 
strong  enough  to  judge  of  his  weight  in  the  market-place. 
Now  this  man — or  I  should  say,  his  backers  and  his  boasters, 
for  the  giant  himself  was  modest — sent  me  a  brave  and 
haughty  challenge  to  meet  him  in  the  ring  at  Bodmin-town 
on  the  first  day  of  August,  or  else  to  return  my  champion's 
belt  to  them  by  the  messenger. 

It  is  no  use  to  deny  but  that  I  was  greatly  dashed  and 
scared  at  first.  For  my  part,  I  was  only,  when  measured 
without  clothes  on,  sixty  inches  round  the  breast,  and 
round  the  calf  scarce  twenty-one,  only  two  feet  across  the 
shoulders,  and  in  height  not  six  and  three-quarters.  How- 
ever my  mother  would  never  believe  that  this  man  could 
beat  me;  and  Lorna  being  of  the  same  mind,  I  resolved  to 
go  and  try  him,  as  they  would  pay  all  expenses,  and  a 
hundred  pounds,  if  I  conquered  him,  so  confident  were 
those  Cornishmen. 

Now  this  story  is  too  well  known  for  me  to  go  through 
it  again  and  again.  Every  child  in  Devonshire  knows,  and 
his  grandson  will  know,  the  song  which  some  clever  man 
made  of  it,  after  I  had  treated  him  to  water,  and  to  lemon, 
and  a  little  sugar,  and  a  drop  of  eau  de  vie.  Enough  that 
I  had  found  the  giant  quite  as  big  as  they  had  described 
him,  and  enough  to  terrify  any  one.  But  trusting  in  my 
practice  and  study  of  the  art,  I  resolved  to  try  a  back  with 
him;  and  when  my  arms  were  round  him  once,  the  giant 
was  but  a  farthingale  put  into  the  vise  of  a  blacksmith. 
The  man  had  no  bones;  his  frame  sunk  in,  and  I  was  afraid 
of  crushing  him.  He  lay  on  his  back  and  smiled  at  me, 
and  I  begged  his  pardon. 

Now,  this  affair  made  a  noise  at  the  time,  and  redounded 
so  much  to  my  credit  that  I  was  deeply  grieved  at  it,  be- 
cause deserving  none.  For  I  do  like  a  good  strife  and 
struggle;  and  the  doubt  makes  the  joy  of  victory;  whereas 


LORN  A  GONE  A  WA  T,  639 

in  this  case  I  might  as  well  have  been  sent  for  a  match  with 
a  hay-mow.  However,  I  got  my  hundred  pounds,  and 
made  up  my  mind  to  spend  every  farthing  in  presents  for 
mother  and  Lorna. 

For  Annie  was  married  by  this  time,  and  long  before  I 
went  away;  as  need  scarcely  be  said,  perhaps,  if  any  one 
follows  the  weeks  and  the  months.  The  wedding  was  quite 
enough,  except  for  everybody's  good  wishes;  and  I  desire 
not  to  dwell  upon  it,  because  it  grieved  me  in  many  ways. 

But  now  that  I  had  tried  to  hope  the  very  best  for  dear 
Annie,  a  deeper  blow  than  could  have  come,  even  through 
her,  awaited  me.  For  after  that  visit  to  Cornwall,  and 
with  my  prize-money  about  me,  I  came  on  foot  from  Oke- 
hampton  to  Oare,  so  as  to  save  a  little  sum  toward  my  time 
of  marrying.  For  Lorna's  fortune  I  would  not  have;  small 
or  great,  I  would  not  have  it;  only  if  there  were  no  deny- 
ing, we  would  devote  the  whole  of  it  to  charitable  uses,  as 
Master  Peter  Blundell  had  done;  and  perhaps  the  future 
ages  would  endeavor  to  be  grateful.  Lorna  and  I  had  set- 
led  this  question  at  least  twice  a  day  on  the  average,  and 
each  time  with  more  satisfaction. 

Now  coming  into  the  kitchen  with  all  my  ca^h  in  my 
breeches-pocket  (golden  guineas,  with  an  elephant  on  them, 
for  the  stamp  of  the  guinea  company),  I  found  dear  mother 
most  heartily  glad  to  see  me  safe  and  sound  again — for  she 
had  dreaded  that  giant,  and  dreamed  of  him — and  she 
never  asked  me  about  the  money.  Lizzie,  also,  was  softer, 
and  more  gracious  than  usual;  especially  when  she  saw  me 
pour  guineas,  like  pepper-corns,  into  the  pudding-basin. 
But  by  the  way  they  hung  about,  I  knew  that  something 
was  gone  wrong. 

"Where  is  Lorna?"  I  asked  at  length,  after  trying  not  to 
ask  it;  "I  want  her  to  come  and  see  my  money.  She  never 
saw  so  much  before." 

"  Alas!"  said  mother,  with  a  heavy  sigh,  "  she  will  see  a 
great  deal  more,  I  fear,  and  a  deal  more  than  is  good  for 
her.  Whether  you  ever  see  her  again  will  depend  upon  her 
nature,  John." 

"What  do  you  mean,  mother?  Have  you  quarreled? 
Why  does  not  Lorna  come  to  me?    Am  I  never  to  know?" 

"  Now,  John,  be  not  so  impatient,"  my  mother  replied, 
quite  calmly,  for  in  truth  she  was  jealous  of  Lorna;  "  you 


540  lORl^A  DOONE. 

could  wait  now  very  well,  John,  if  it  were  till  this  day 
week,  for  the  coming  of  your  mother,  John.  And  yet  your 
mother  is  your  best  friend.     Who  can  ever  fill  her  place?" 

Thinking  of  her  future  absence,  mother  turned  away  and 
cried,  and  the  box-iron  singed  the  blanket. 

"Now,"  said  I,  being  wild  by  this  time,  ''Lizzie,  you 
have  a  little  sense;  will  you  tell  me  where  is  Lorna?" 

"  The  Lady  Lorna  Dugal,"  said  Lizzie,  screwing  up  her 
lips,  as  if  the  title  were  too  grand,  "  is  gone  to  London, 
brother  John,  and  not  likely  to  come  back  again.  We 
must  try  to  get  on  without  her." 

'*  You  little  " — [something]  I  cried,  which  I  dare  not 
write  down  here,  as  all  of  you  are  too  good  for  such 
language;  but  Lizzie's  lip  provoked  me  so — **  my  Lorna 

fone,  my  Lorna  gone!  And  without  good-by  to  me  even! 
t  is  your  spite  has  sickened  her." 

"  You  are  quite  mistaken  there,"  she  replied;  ''  how  can 
folk  of  low  degree  have  either  spite  or  liking  toward  the 
people  so  far  above  them  ?  The  Lady  Lorna  Dugal  is  gone, 
because  she  could  not  help  herself;  and  she  wept  enough 
to  break  ten  hearts — if  hearts  are  ever  broken,  John." 

''Darling  Lizzie,  how  good  you  are!"  I  cried,  without 
noticing  her  sneer;  "tell  me  all  about  it,  dear;  tell  me 
every  word  she  said." 

"  That  will  not  take  long,"  said  Lizzie,  quite  as  unmoved 
by  soft  coaxing  as  by  urgent  cursing;  "the  lady  spoke  very 
little  to  any  one,  except,  indeed,  to  mother,  and  to  Gwenny 
Carfax;  and  Gwenny  is  gone  with  her,  so  that  the  benefit 
of  that  is  lost.  But  she  left  a  letter  for  '  poor  John,'  as 
in  charity  she  called  him.  How  grand  she  looked,  to  be 
sure,  with  the  fine  clothes  on  that  were  come  for  her!" 

"Where  is  the  letter,  you  utter  vixen?  Oh,  may  3^ou 
have  a  husband !" 

"  Who  will  thrash  it  out  of  you,  and  starve  it,  and 
swear  it  out  of  you!"  was  the  meaning  of  my  imprecation: 
but  Lizzie,  not  dreaming  as  yet  of  such  things,  could  not 
understand  me,  and  was  rather  thankful;  therefore  she 
answered  quietly: 

"The  letter  is  in  the  little  cupboard,  near  the  head  of 
Lady  Lorna's  bed,  where  she  used  to  keep  the  diamond 
necklace,  which  we  contrived  to  get  stolen." 

Without  another  word,  1  rushed  (so  that  every  board  in 


LORN  A  GONE  A  WA  7.  541 

the  house  shook)  up  to  my  lost  Lorna's  room,  and  tore  the 
little  wall-niche  open,  and  espied  my  treasure.  It  was  as 
simple,  and  as  homely,  and  loving,  as  even  I  could  wish. 
Part  of  it  ran  as  follows — the  other  parts  it  behooves  me 
not  to  open  out  to  strangers:  "  My  own  love,  and  some- 
time lord — Take  it  not  amiss  of  me,  that  even  without 
farewell,  I  go;  for  I  cannot  persuade  the  men  to  wait,  your 
return  being  doubtful.  My  great  uncle,  some  grand  lord, 
is  awating  me  at  Dunster,  having  fear  of  venturing  too 
near  this  Exmoor  country.  I,  who  have  been  so  lawless 
always,  and  the  child  of  outlaws,  am  now  to  atone  for  this, 
it  seems,  by  living  in  a  court  of  law,  and  under  special 
surveillance  (a?  they  call  it,  I  believe)  of  His  Majesty's 
Court  of  Chancery.  My  uncle  is  appointed  my  guardian 
and  master;  and  I  must  live  beneath  his  care  until  I  am 
twenty-one  years  old.  To  me  this  appears  a  dreadful 
thing,  and  very  unjust  and  cruel;  for  why  should  I  lose 
my  freedom  through  heritage  of  land  and  gold?  I  offered 
to  abandon  all  if  they  would  only  let  me  go:  I  went  down 
on  my  knees  to  them,  and  said  I  wanted  titles  not,  neither 
land,  nor  money;  only  to  stay  where  I  was,  where  first  I 
had  known  happiness.  But  they  only  laughed,  and  called 
me  *  child,'  and  said  I  must  talk  of  that  to  the  King's 
High  Chancellor.  Their  orders  they  had,  and  must  obey 
them;  and  Master  Stickles  was  ordered,  too,  to  help,  as  the 
King's  Commissioner.  And  then,  although  it  pierced  my 
heart  not  to  say  one  *good-by,  John,'  I  was  glad  upon  the 
whole  that  you  were  not  here  to  dispute  it.  For  I  am 
almost  certain  that  you  would  not,  without  force  to  your- 
self, have  let  your  Lorna  go  to  people  who  never,  never 
can  care  for  her." 

Here  my  darling  had  wept  again,  by  the  tokens  on  the 
paper;  and  then  there  followed  some  sweet  words,  too 
sweet  for  me  to  chatter  them.  But  she  inished  with  these 
noble  lines,  which  (being  common  to  all  humanity,  in  a 
case  of  steadfast  love)  I  do  no  harm,  but  rather  help  all 
true  love  by  repeating.  **  Of  one  thing  rest  you  well  as- 
sured— and  I  do  hope  that  it  may  prove  of  service  to  your 
rest,  love,  else  would  my  own  be  broken — no  difference  of 
rank,  or  fortune,  or  of  life  itself,  shall  ever  make  me 
swerve  from  truth  to  you.  We  have  passed  through  many 
dangers,   troubles,   and  dispartments,   but  never  yet  was 


542  jbORNA  BOONE, 

doubt  between  us;  neither  ever  shall  be.  EacYi  has  trusted 
well  the  other,  and  still  each  must  do  so.  Though  they 
tell  you  I  am  false,  though  your  own  mind  harbors  it,  from 
the  sense  of  things  around,  and  your  own  undervaluing, 
yet  take  counsel  of  your  heart,  and  cast  such  thoughts, 
away  from  you;  being  unworthy  of  itself,  they  must  be 
unworthy  also  of  the  one  who  dwells  there;  and  that  one 
is,  and  ever  shall  be,  your  own  Lorna  Dugal.'' 

Some  people  cannot  understand  that  tears  should  come 
from  pleasure;  but  whether  from  pleasure  or  from  sorrow 
(mixed  as  they  are  in  the  twisted  strings  of  a  man's  heart, 
or  a  woman's),  great  tears  fell  from  my  stupid  eyes,  even 
on  the  blots  of  Lorna's. 

"  No  doubt  it  is  all  over,"  my  mind  said  to  me,  bitterly. 
''Trust  me,  all  shall  yet  be  right,"  my  heart  replied,  very 
sweetly. 


ANNIE  L  UCKIER  THAN  JOHN.  643 


CHAPTER  LX. 

ANNIE   LUCKIER  THAN  JOHN. 

Some  people  may  look  down  upon  us  for  our  slavish 
ways  (as  they  may  choose  to  call  them);  but  in  our  part  of 
the  country  we  do  love  to  mention  title,  and  to  roll  it  on 
our  tongues  with  a  conscience  and  a  comfort.  Even  if  a 
man  knows  not,  through  fault  of  education,  who  the  Duke 
of  this  is,  or  the  Earl  of  that,  it  will  never  do  for  him  to 
say  so,  lest  the  room  look  down  on  him.  Therefore  he 
must  nod  his  head,  and  say,  **  Ah,  to  be  sure!  I  know  him 
as  well  as  ever  I  know  my  own  good  woman's  brother.  He 
married  Lord  Flipflap's  second  daughter,  and  a  precious 
life  she  led  him.''  Whereupon  the  room  looks  up  at  him. 
But  I,  being  quite  unable  to  carry  all  this  in  my  head,  as  I 
ought,  was  speedily  put  down  by  people  of  a  noble  tendency, 
apt  at  Lords,  and  pat  with  Dukes,  and  knowing  more  about 
the  King  than  His  Majesty  would  have  requested.  There- 
fore, I  fell  back  in  thought,  not  daring  in  words  to  do  so, 
upon  the  titles  of  our  horses.  And  all  these  horses  de- 
served their  names,  not  having  merely  inherited,  but  by 
their  own  doing  earned  them.  Smiler,  for  instance,  had 
been  so  called,  not  so  much  from  a  habit  of  smiling,  as 
from  his  general  geniality,  white  nose,  and  white  ankle. 
This  worthy  horse  was  now  in  years,  but  hale  and  gay  as 
ever;  and  when  you  let  him  out  of  the  stable,  he  could 
neigh  and  whinny,  and  make  men  and  horses  know  it.  On 
the  other  hand,  Kickums  was  a  horse  of  morose  and  surly 
order;  harboring  up  revenge,  and  leading  a  rider  to  false 
confidence.  Very  smoothly  he  would  go,  and  as  gentle  as 
a  turtle-dove,  until  his  rider  fully  believed  that  a  pack- 
thread was  enough  for  him,  and  a  pat  of  approval  upon  his 
neck  the  aim  and  crown  of  his  worthy  life.  Then  sud- 
denly up  went  his  hind  feet  to  heaven,  and  the  rider  for 
the  most  part  flew  over  his  nose;  whereupon  good  Kickums 


544  LORN  A  DOONR 

would  take  advantage  of  his  favorable  position  to  come  and 
bite  a  piece  out  of  his  back.  Now  in  my  present  state  of 
mind,  being  understood  of  nobody,  having  none  to  bear  me 
company,  neither  wishing  to  have  any,  an  indefinite  kind 
of  attraction  drew  me  into  Kickums'  society.  A  bond  of 
mutual  sympathy  was  soon  established  between  us;  I  would 
ride  no  other  horse,  neither  Kickums  be  ridden  by  any 
other  man.  And  this  good  horse  became  as  jealous  about 
me  as  a  dog  might  be;  and  would  lash  out,  or  run  teeth 
foremost,  at  any  one  who  came  near  him  when  I  was  on 
his  back. 

This  season,  the  reaping  of  the  corn,  which  had  been  but 
a  year  ago  so  pleasant  and  so  lightsome,  was  become  a 
heavy  labor,  and  a  thing  for  grumbling  rather  than  for 
gladness.  However,  for  the  sake  of  all,  it  must  be  attended 
to,  and  with  as  fair  a  show  of  spirit  and  alacrity  as  might 
be.  For  otherwise  the  rest  would  drag,  and  drop  their 
hands  and  idle,  being  quicker  to  take  infection  of  dullness 
than  of  diligence.  And  the  harvest  was  a  heavy  one,  even 
heavier  than  the  year  before,  although  of  poorer  quality. 
Therefore  was  I  forced  to  work  as  hard  as  any  horse  could 
during  all  the  daylight  hours,  and  defer  till  nip^ht  the 
bi'ooding  upon  my  misfortune.  But  the  darkne^.-  id  ways 
found  me  stiff  with  work,  and  weary,  and  less  able  to  think 
than  to  dream,  maybe,  of  Lorna.  Aud  now  the  house  was 
so  dull  and  lonesome,  wanting  Annie^s  pretty  presence  and 
the  light  of  Lorna's  eyes,  that  a  man  had  no  temptation 
after  supper-time  even  to  sit  and  smoke  a  pipe. 

For  Lizzie,  though  so  learned  and  pleasant  when  it  suited 
her,  never  had  taken  very  kindly  to  my  love  for  Lorna;  and 
being  of  a  proud  and  slightly  upstart  nature,  could  not  bear 
to  be  eclipsed  in  bearing,  looks,  and  breeding,  and  even  in 
clothes,  by  the  stranger.  For  one  thing  I  will  say  of  the 
Doones,  that  whether  by  purchase  or  plunder,  they  had 
always  dressed  my  darling  well,  with  her  own  sweet  taste  to 
help  them.  And  though  Lizzie's  natural  hate  of  the  maid 
(as  a  Doone,  and  burdened  with  father's  death)  should 
have  been  changed  to  remorse,  when  she  learned  of  Lorna's 
real  parentage,  it  was  only  altered  to  sullenness,  and  dis- 
content with  herself,  for  frequent  rudeness  to  an  innocent 
person,  and  one  of  such  high  descent.  Moreover,  the  child 
had  imbibed  strange  ideas  as  to  our  aristocracy,  partly,  per- 


ANNIE  L  UCKIER  THAN  JOHN,  545 

haps  from  her  own  way  of  thinking,  and  partly  from  read- 
ing of  history.  For  while  from  one  point  of  view  she 
looked  up  at  them  very  demurely,  as  commissioned  by  God 
for  the  country's  good,  from  another  sight  she  disliked 
them,  as  ready  to  sacrifice  their  best  and  follow  their  worst 
members. 

Yet  why  should  this  wench  dare  to  judge  upon  a  matter 
so  far  beyond  her,  and  form  opinions  which  she  knew  better 
than  to  declare  before  mother?  But  with  me  she  had  no 
such  scruples,  for  I  had  no  authority  over  her;  and  my  in- 
tellect she  looked  down  upon,  because  I  praised  her  own 
so.  Thus  she  made  herself  very  unpleasant  to  me;  by  little 
jags  and  jerks  of  sneering,  sped  as  though  unwittingly; 
which  I  (who  now  considered  myself  allied  to  the  aris- 
tocracy, and  perhaps  took  airs  on  that  account)  had  not 
wit  enough  to  parry,  yet  had  wound  enough  to  feel. 

Now  any  one  who  does  not  know  exactly  how  mothers 
feel  and  think  would  have  expected  my  mother  (than 
whom  could  be  no  better  one)  to  pet  me,  and  make  much 
of  me,  under  my  sad  trouble;  to  hang  with  anxiety  on  my 
looks,  and  shed  her  tears  with  mine  (if  any),  and  season 
every  dish  of  meat  put  by  for  her  John's  return.  And  if 
the  whole  truth  must  be  told,  I  did  expect  that  sort  of 
thing,  and  thought  what  a  plague  it  would  be  to  me;  yet 
not  getting  it,  was  vexed,  as  if  by  some  new  injury.  For 
mother  was  a  special  creature  (as  I  suppose  we  all  are), 
being  the  warmest  of  the  warm,  when  fired  at  the  proper 
corner;  and  yet,  if  taken  at  the  wrong  point,  you  would  say 
she  was  incombustible. 

Hence  it  came  to  pass  that  I  had  no  one  even  to  speak  to 
about  Lorna  and  my  grievances;  for  Captain  Stickles  was 
now  gone  southward;  and  John  Fry,  of  course,  was  too 
low  for  it,  although  a  married  man,  and  well  under  his 
wife's  management.  But  finding  myself  unable  at  last  to 
bear  this  any  longer,  upon  the  first  day  when  all  the  wheat 
was  cut,  and  the  stooks  set  up  in  every  field,  yet  none  quite 
fit  for  carrying,  I  saddled  good  Kicknms  at  five  in  the 
morning,  and  without  a  word  to  mother  (for  a  little 
anxiety  might  do  her  good)  off  I  set  for  Holland  parish,  to 
have  the  counsel  and  the  comfort  of  my  darling  Annie. 

Tlie  horse  took  me  over  the  ground  so  fast  (there  being: 
few  better  to  go  when  he  liked),  that  by  nine  o'clock 


546  LORNA  MONE, 

Annie  was  in  my  arms,  and  blushing  to  the  color  of  Win* 
nie's  cheeks,  with  sudden  delight  and  young  happiness. 

"  You  precious  little  soul !"  I  cried  ;  **  how  does  Tom 
behave  to  you  ?" 

*'Hushf"  said  Annie;  "how  dare  you  ask?  He  is  the 
kindest,  and  the  best,  and  the  noblest  of  all  men,  John; 
not  even  setting  yourself  aside.  Now,  look  not  jealous, 
John;  so  it  is.  We  all  have  special  gifts,  you  know.  You 
are  as  good  as  you  can  be,  John;  but  my  husband's  special 
gift  is  nobility  ^f  character."  Here  she  looked  at  me  as 
one  who  has  discovered  something  quite  unknown. 

*'  I  am  devilish  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  I,  being  touched  at 
going  down  so;  "  keep  him  to  that  mark,  my  dear,  and 
cork  the  whisky-bottle." 

"  Yes,  darling  John,"  she  answered  quickly,  not  desiring 
to  open  that  subject,  and  being  too  sweet  to  resent  it; 
"  and  how  is  lovely  Lorna?  What  an  age  it  is  since  I  have 
seen  you!     I  suppose  we  mast  thank  her  for  that." 

''You  may  thank  her  for  seeing  me  now,"  said  I;  ''  or 
rather,"  seeing  how  hurt  she  looked,  ''you  may  thank  my 
knowledge  of  your  kindness,  and  my  desire  to  speak  of  her 
to  a  soft-hearted,  dear  little  soul  like  you.  I  think  all  the 
women  are  gone  mad.    Even  mother  treats  me  shamefully. 

And  as  for  Lizzie "  Here  I  stopped,  knowing  no  words 

strong  enough,  without  shocking  Annie. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Lorna  is  gone?"  asked  Annie, 
in  great  amazement,  yet  leaping  at  the  truth,  as  women  do, 
with  nothing  at  all  to  leap  from. 

*'  Gone.  And  I  shall  never  see  her  again.  It  serves  me 
right  for  aspiring  so." 

Being  grieved  at  my  manner,  she  led  me  in  where  none 
could  interrupt  us;  and  in  spite  of  all  my  dejection,  I  could 
not  help  noticing  how  very  pr  tty,  and  even  elegant,  all 
things  were  around.  For  we  ipon  Exmoor  have  little 
taste;  all  we  care  for  is  warm  comfort,  and  plenty  to  eat 
and  to  give  away,  and  a  hearty  smack  in  everything.  But 
Squire  Faggus  had  seen  the  world,  and  kept  company  with 
great  people;  and  the  taste  ^e  had  first  displayed  in  the 
shoeing  of  farmers'  horses  (which  led  almost  to  his  ruin, 
by  bringing  him  into  jealousy,  and  flattery,  and  dashing 
ways)  had  now  been  cultivated  in  London,  and  by  moon- 
light, so  that  none  could  help  admiring  it. 


ANNIE  LUCKIER  THAN  JOHN  547 

"  Well!"  I  cried,  for  the  moment  dropping  care  and  woe 
in  astonishment;  "  we  have  nothing  like  this  at  Plovers 
Barrows;  nor  even  Uncle  Reuben.  I  do  hope  it  is  honest, 
Annie?" 

"Would  I  sit  in  a  chair  that  was  not  my  own?"  asked 
Annie,  turning  crimson,  and  dropping  defiantly,  and  with 
a  whisk  of  her  dress  which  I  never  had  seen  before, 
into  the  very  grandest  one;  *'  would  I  lie  on  a  couch, 
brother  John,  do  you  think,  unless  good  money  was  paid 
for  it?  Because  other  people  are  clever,  John,  you  need 
not  grudge  them  their  earnings." 

"A  couch!"  I  replied;  "  why  what  can  you  want  with  a 
couch  in  the  day-time,  Annie?  A  couch  is  a  small  bed, 
set  up  in  a  room  without  space  for  a  good  four-poster. 
What  can  you  want  with  a  couch  down-stairs?  I  never 
heard  of  such  nonsense.  And  you  ought  to  be  in  the 
dairy." 

"  I  won't  cry,  brother  John,  I  won't;  because  you  want 
to  make  me  cry" — and  all  the  time  she  was  crying — "you 
always  were  so  nasty,  John,  sometimes.  Ah,  you  have  no 
nobility  of  character  like  my  husband.  And  I  have  not 
seen  you  for  twa  months,  John;  and  now  you  come  to 
scold  me?" 

"You  little  darling,"  I  said,  for  Annie's  tears  always 
conquered  me,  "  if  all  the  rest  ill  use  me,  1  will  not  quar- 
rel with  you,  dear.  You  have  always  been  true  to  me,  and 
I  can  forgive  your  vanity.  Your  things  are  very  pretty, 
dear;  and  you  may  couch  ten  times  a  day,  without  my 
interference.  No  doubt  your  husband  has  paid  for  all 
this  with  the  ponies  he  stole  from  Exmoor.  Nobility  of 
character  is  a  thing  beyond  my  understanding;  but  when 
my  sister  loves  a  man,  and  he  does  well  and  flourishes,  who 
am  I  to  find  fault  with  him?  Mother  ought  to  see  these 
things;  they  would  turn  her  head  almost.  Look  at  the 
pimples  on  the  chairs!" 

"  They  are  nothing,"  Annie  answered,  after  kissing  me 
for  my  kindness;  "  they  are  only  put  in  for  the  time 
indeed;  and  we  are  to  have  much  better,  with  gold  all 
round  the  bindings,  and  double  plush  at  the  corners,  so 
soon  as  ever  the  King  repays  the  debt  he  owes  to  my  poor 
Tom." 

I  thought  to  mysejf  th^t  our  present  King  had  been 


548  LOUNA  DOONB, 

most  unlucky  in  one  thing— debts  all  over  the  kingdom. 
Not  a  man  who  had  struck  a  blow  for  the  King,  or  for  his 
poor  father,  or  even  said  a  good  word  for  him,  in  the  time 
of  his  adversity,  but  expected  at  least  a  baronetcy,  and  a 
grant  of  estates  to  support  it.  Many  have  called  King 
Charles  ungrateful,  and  he  may  have  been  so.  But  some 
indulgence  is  due  to  a  man  with  entries  few  on  the  credit 
side  and  a  terrible  column  of  debits. 

'*  Have  no  fear  for  the  chair,"  I  said,  for  it  creaked 
under  me  very  fearfully,  having  legs  not  so  large  as  my 
finger;  ''if  the  chair  breaks,  Annie,  your  fear  should  be 
lest  the  tortoise-shell  run  into  me.  Why  it  is  striped  like 
a  viper's  loins!  I  saw  some  hundreds  in  London,  and  very 
cheap  they  are.  They  are  made  to  be  sold  to  the  country 
people,  such  as  you  and  me,  dear;  and  carefully  kept  they 
will  last  for  almost  half  a  year.  Now  will  you  come  back 
from  your  furniture,  and  listen  to  my  story?'' 

Annie  was  a  hearty  dear,  and  she  knew  that  half  my  talk 
was  joke,  to  make  light  of  my  worr3^ing.  Therefore,  she 
took  it  in  good  part,  as  I  well  knew  that  she  would  do; 
and  she  led  me  to  a  good  honest  chair;  and  she  sat  in  my 
lap  and  kissed  me. 

"  All  this  is  not  like  you,  John.  All  this  is  not  one  bit 
like  you;  and  your  cheeks  are  not  as  they  ought  to  be.  I 
shall  have  to  come  home  again,  if  the  women  worry  my 
brother  so.  We  always  held  together,  John;  and  we 
always  will,  you  know." 

"  You  dear," I  cried,  "there  is  nobody  who  understands 
me  as  you  do.  Lorna  makes  too  much  of  me;  and  the  rest 
they  make  too  little." 

"Not  mother;  oh,  not  mother,  John!" 

"  No,  mother  makes  too  much,  no  doubt,  but  wants  it 
all  for  herself  alone,  and  reckons  it  as  a  part  of  her.  She 
makes  me  more  wroth  than  any  one;  as  if  not  only  my  life, 
but  all  my  head  and  heart  must  seek  from  hers,  and  have 
no  other  thought  or  care." 

Being  sped  of  my  grumbling  thus,  and  eased  into  better 
temper,  I  told  Annie  all  the  strange  history  about  Lorna 
and  her  departure,  and  the  small  chance  that  now  remained 
to  me  of  ever  seeing  my  love  again.  To  this  Annie  would 
not  harken  twice;  but  judging  women  by  her  faithful  self, 
was  quite  vexed  with  me  for  speaking  so.     And  then,  to 


ANNIE  L  UCKIER  THAN  JOHN.  549 

my  surprise  and  sorrow,  she  would  deliver  no  opinion  as  to 
what  I  ought  to  do  until  she  had  consulted  darling  Tom. 

Dear  Tom  knew  much  of  the  world,  no  doubt,  especially 
the  dark  side  of  it.  But  to  me  it  scarcely  seemed  becom- 
ing that  my  course  of  action  with  regard  to  the  Lady 
Lorna  Dugal  should  be  referred  to  Tom  Faggus,  and 
depend  upon  his  decision.  However,  I  would  not  grieve 
Annie  again  by  making  light  of  her  husband;  and  so  when 
he  came  into  dinner,  the  matter  was  laid  before  him. 

Now  this  man  never  confessed  himself  surprised,  under 
any  circumstances;  his  knowledgeof  life  being  so  profound, 
and  his  charity  universal.  And  in  the  present  case  he 
vowed  that  he  had  suspected  it  all  along,  and  could  have 
thrown  light  upon  Lorna's  history,  if  we  had  seen  fit  to 
apply  to  him.  Upon  further  inquiry,  I  found  that  this 
light  was  a  very  dim  one,  flowing  only  from  the  fact  that 
he  had  stopped  her  mother^s  coach  at  the  village  of  Bolham, 
on  the  Bampton  road,  the  day  before  I  saw  them.  Finding 
only  women  therein,  and  these  in  a  sad  condition,  Tom, 
with  his  usual  chivalry  (as  he  had  no  scent  of  the  necklace), 
allowed  them  to  pass,  with  nothing  more  than  a  pleasant 
exchange  of  courtesies,  and  a  testimonial  forced  upon  him 
in  the  shape  of  a  bottle  of  Burgundy  wine.  This  the  poor 
countess  handed  him;  and  he  twisted  the  cork  out  with  his 
teeth,  and  drank  her  health  with  his  hat  off. 

**  A  lady  she  was,  and  a  true  one;  and  I  am  a  pretty 
good  judge,"  said  Tom.     '*  Ah,  I  do  like  a  high  lady!" 

Our  Annie  looked  rather  queer  at  this,  having  no  pre- 
tensions to  be  one;  but  she  conquered  herself,  and  said, 
*'  Yes,  Tom;  and  many  of  them  liked  you." 

With  this  Tom  went  on  the  brag  at  once,  being  but  a 
shallow  fellow,  and  not  of  settled  principles,  though 
steadier  than  he  used  to  be,  until  I  felt  myself  almost 
bound  to  fetch  him  back  a  little;  for  of  all  things  I  do  hate 
brag  the  most,  as  any  reader  of  this  tale  must  by  this  time 
know.  Therefore  I  said  to  Squire  Faggus,  "  Come  back 
from  your  highway  days.  You  have  married  the  daughter 
of  an  honest  man,  and  such  talk  is  not  fit  for  her.  If  you 
wert  right  in  robbing  people,  I  am  right  in  robbing  you. 
I  could  bind  you  to  your  own  mantel-piece,  as  you  know 
thoroughly  well,  Tom,  and  drive  away  your  own  horses, 
and  all  your  goods  behind  them,  but  for  the  sense  of 


550  LORN  A  BOONE, 

honesty.  And  should  I  not  do  as  fine  a  thing  as  any  you 
did  on  the  highway?  If  everything  is  of  public  right,  how 
does  this  chair  belong  to  you?  Clever  as  you  are,  Tom 
Faggus,  you  are  nothing  but  a  fool  to  mix  your  felony  with 
your  farmership.  Drop  the  one,  or  drop  the  other;  you 
cannot  maintain  them  both." 

As  I  finished  very  sternly  a  speech  which  had  exhausted 
me  more  than  ten  rounds  of  wrestling — but  I  was  carried 
away  by  the  truth,  as  sometimes  happens  to  all  of  us — Tom 
had  not  a  word  to  say;  albeit  his  mind  was  so  much  more 
nimble  and  rapid  than  ever  mine  was.  He  leaned  against 
the  mantel-piece  (a  newly-invented  affair  in  his  house)  as 
if  I  had  corded  him  to  it,  even  as  I  spoke  of  doing.  And 
he  laid  one  hand  on  his  breast  in  a  way  which  made  Annie 
creep  softly  to  him,  and  look  at  me  not  like  a  sister. 

"  You  have  done  me  good,  John,"  he  said  at  last,  and 
the  hand  he  gave  me  was  trembling;  "there  is  no  other 
man  on  God's  earth  would  have  dared  to  speak  to  me  as 
you  have  done.  From  no  other  would  I  have  taken  it. 
Nevertheless,  every  word  is  true,  and  I  shall  dwell  on  it 
when  you  are  gone.  If  you  never  did  good  in  your  life 
before,  John,  my  brother,  you  have  done  it  now." 

He  turned  away  in  bitter  pain,  that  none  might  see  his 
trouble;  and  Annie,  going  along  with  him,  looked  as  if  I 
had  killed  our  mother.  For  my  part,  I  was  so  upset  for 
fear  of  having  gone  too  far,  that  without  a  word  to  either 
of  them,  but  a  message  on  the  title-page  of  King  James  his 
prayer-book,  I  saddled  Kickums,  and  was  off,  and  glad  of 
the  moor-land  air  again. 


THEREFORE  HE  SEEKS  COMFORT,  651 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

THEREFORE  HE  SEEKS  COMFORT. 

It  was  for  poor  Annie's  sake  that  I  had  spoken  my  mind 
to  her  husband  so  freely,  and  even  harshly.  For  we  all 
knew  she  would  break  her  heart  if  Tom  took  to  evil  ways 
again.  And  the  right  mode  of  preventing  this  was,  not  to 
coax,  and  flatter,  and  make  a  hero  of  him  (which  he  did 
for  himself  quite  sufficiently),  but  to  set  before  him  the 
folly  of  the  thing,  and  the  ruin  to  his  own  interests. 

They  would  both  be  vexed  with  me,  of  course,  for 
having  left  tliem  so  hastily,  and  especially  just  before 
dinner-time;  but  that  would  soon  wear  off;  and  most 
likely  they  would  come  to  see  mother,  and  tell  her  that  I 
was  hard  to  manage,  and  they  could  feel  for  her  about  it. 

Now  with  a  certain  yearning,  I  know  not  what,  for  soft- 
ness, and  for  one  who  could  understand  me — for  simple  as 
a  child  though  being,  I  found  few  to  do  that  last,  at  any 
rate  in  my  love-time — I  relied  upon  Kickums'  strength  to 
take  me  round  by  Dulverton.  It  would  make  the  journey 
some  eight  miles  longer,  but  what  was  that  to  a  brisk  young 
horse,  even  with  my  weight  upon  him?  And  having  left 
Squire  Faggus  and  Annie  much  sooner  than  had  been 
intended,  I  had  plenty  of  time  before  me,  and  too  much 
ere  a  prospect  of  dinner.  Therefore  I  struck  to  the  right 
across  the  hills  for  Dulverton. 

Pretty  Ruth  was  in  the  main  street  of  the  town,  with  a 
basket  in  her  hand,  going  home  from  the  market. 

**  Why,  Cousin  Ruth,  you  are  grown,''  I  exclaimed;  "  I 
do  believe  you  are,  Ruth.  And  you  were  almost  too  tall, 
already." 

At  this  the  little  thing  was  so  pleased  that  she  smiled 
through  her  blushes  beautifully,  and  must  needs  come  to 
shake  hands  with  me;  though  I  signed  to  her  not  to  do  it, 
because  of  my  horse's  temper.    But  scarcely  was  her  hand  in 


552  LORNA  DOONE. 

mine,  when  Kickiims  turned  like  an  eel  upon  her  and  caught 
her  by  the  left  arm  with  his  teeth,  so  that  she  screamed 
with  agony.  I  saw  the  white  of  his  vicious  eye,  and  struck 
him  there  with  all  my  force,  with  my  left  hand  over  her 
right  arm,  and  he  never  used  that  eye  again;  none  the  less 
he  kept  his  hold  on  her.  Then  I  smote  him  again  on  the 
jaw,  and  caught  the  lit^  maid  up  by  her  right  hand,  and 
laid  her  on  the  saddle  in  front  of  me;  while  the  horse, 
being  giddy  and  staggered  with  blows,  and  foiled  in  his 
spite,  ran  backward.  Ruth's  wits  were  gone;  and  she  lay 
before  me  in  such  a  helpless  and  senseless  way,  that  I  could 
have  killed  vileKickums.  I  struck  the  spurs  into  him  past 
the  rowels,  and  away  he  went  at  full  gallop;  while  I  had 
enough  to  do  to  hold  on,  with  the  little  girl  lying  in  front 
of  me.  But  I  called  to  the  men  who  were  flocking  around 
to  send  up  a  surgeon  as  quick  as  could  be  to  Master  Reuben 
Huckaback's. 

The  moment  I  brought  my  right  arm  to  bear,  the  vicious 
horse  had  no  chance  with  me;  and  if  ever  a  horse  was  well 
paid  for  spite,  Kickums  had  his  change  that  day.  The 
bridle  would  almost  have  held  a  whale,  and  I  drew  on  it  so 
ihat  his  lower  jaw  was  well-nigh  broken  from  him;  while 
with  both  spurs  I  tore  his  flanks,  and  he  learned  a  little 
lesson.  There  are  times  when  a  man  is  more  vicious  than 
any  horse  may  vie  with.  Therefore  by  the  time  we  reached 
Uncle  Reuben's  house  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  the  bad  horse 
was  only  too  happy  to  stop;  every  string  of  his  body  was 
trembling,  and  his  head  hanging  down  with  impotence.  I 
leaped  from  his  back  at  once,  and  carried  the  maiden  into 
her  own  sweet  room. 

Now  Cousin  Ruth  was  recovering  softly  from  her  fright 
and  faintness;  and  the  volley  of  the  wind,  from  galloping 
so,  had  made  her  little  ears  quite  pink,  and  shaken  her 
locks  all  round  her.  But  any  one  who  might  wish  to  see  a 
comely  sight  and  a  moving  one,  need  only  have  looked  at 
Ruth  Huckaback  when  she  learned  (and  imagined  yet 
more  than  it  was)  the  manner  of  her  little  ride  with  me. 
Her  hair  was  of  a  hazel  brown,  and  full  of  waving  readiness; 
and  with  no  concealment  of  the  trick,  she  spread  it  over 
her  eyes  and  face.  Being  so  delighted  with  her,  and  so 
glad  to  see  her  safe,  I  kissed  her  through  the  thick  of  it, 
as  a  cousin  has  a  right  to  do;  yea,  and  ought  to  do,  with 
gravity. 


THEREFORE  HE  SEEKS  COMFORT,  553 

"  Darling/'  I  said,  *'  he  has  bitten  you  dreadfully;  show 
me  your  poor  arm,  dear/' 

She  pulled  her  sleeve  in  the  simplest  manner,  rather  to 
look  at  it  herself,  than  to  show  me  where  the  wound  was. 
Her  sleeve  was  of  dark  blue  Taunton  staple;  and  her  white 
arm  shone,  coming  out  of  it,  as  round  and  plump  and 
velvety  as  a  stalk  of  asparagus  newly  fetched  out  of  ground. 
But  above  the  curved  soft  elbow,  where  no  room  was  for 
one  cross  word  (according  to  our  proverb)*  three  sad 
gashes,  edged  with  crimsoi^,  spoiled  the  flow  of  the  pearly 
flesh.  My  presence  of  uiind  was  lost  altogether;  and  I 
raised  the  poor  sore  arm  to  my  lips,  both  to  stop  the  bleed- 
ing and  to  take  the  venom  out,  having  heard  how  wise  it 
was,  and  thinking  of  my  mother.  But  Ruth,  to  my  great 
amazement,  drew  away  from  me  in  bitter  haste,  as  if  I  had 
been  inserting  instead  of  extracting  poison.  For  the  bite 
of  a  horse  is  most  venomous;  especially  when  he  sheds  his 
teeth;  and  far  more  to  be  feared  than  tlie  bite  of  a  dog,  or 
even  of  a  cat.  And  in  my  haste  I  had  forgotten  that  Ruth 
might  not  know  a  word  about  this,  and  might  doubt  about 
my  meaning,  and  the  warmth  of  my  osculation.  But 
knowing  her  danger,  I  durst  not  heed  her  childishness  or 
her  feelings. 

'*  Don't  be  a  fool,  Cousin  Ruth,"  I  said,  catching  her  so 
that  she  could  not  move;  *'  the  poison  is  soaking  into  you. 
Do  you  think  that  I  do  it  for  pleasure?" 

The  spread  of  shame  on  her  face  was  such,  when  she 
saw  her  own  misunderstanding,  that  I  was  ashamed  to  look 
at  her,  and  occupied  myself  with  drawing  all  the  risk  of 
glanders  forth  from  the  white  limb,  hanging  helpless  now, 
and  left  entirely  to  my  will.  Before  I  was  quite  sure  of 
having  wholly  exhausted  suction,  and  when  I  had  made 
the  holes  in  her  arm  look  like  the  gills  of  a  lamprey,  in 
came  the  doctor,  partly  drunk,  and  in  haste  to  get  through 
his  business. 

*'Ha,  ha!  I  see,"  he  cried;  "bite  of  a  horse,  they  tell 
me.  Very  poisonous;  must  be  burned  away.  Sally,  the 
iron  in  the  fire.     If  you  have  a  fire  this  weather." 

"Crave  your  pardon,  good  sir,"  I  said;  for  poor  little 

*"  A  maid  with  an  elbow  sharp,  or  knee. 
Hath  cross  words  two  out  of  every  three," 


554  LORNA  BOONE, 

Euth  was  fainting  again  at  his  savage  orders;  ''but  my 
cousin's  arm  shall  not  be  burned;  it  is  a  great  deal  too 
pretty,  and  I  have  sucked  all  the  poison  out.  Look,  sir, 
how  clean  and  fresh  it  is." 

"Bless  my  heart!  And  so  it  is!  No  need  at  all  for 
cauterizing.  The  epidermis  will  close  over,  and  the  cutis 
and  the  pellis.  John  Ridd,  you  ought  to  have  studied 
medicine,  with  your  healing  powers.  Half  my  virtue  lies 
in  touch.  A  clean  and  wholesome  body,  sir;  I  have  taught 
you  the  Latin  grammar.  I  leave  you  in  excellent  hands, 
my  dear,  and  they  wait  for  me  at  shovel-board.  Bread-and  • 
water  poultice  cold,  to  be  renewed,  tribus  horis.  John 
Ridd,  I  was  at  school  with  you,  and  you  beat  me  very 
lamentably  when  I  tried  to  fight  with  you.  You  remember 
me  not?  It  is  likely  enough;  I  am  forced  to  take  strong 
waters,  John,  from  infirmity  of  the  liver.  Attend  to  my 
directions,  and  I  will  call  again  in  the  morning." 

And  in  that  melancholy  plight,  caring  nothmg  for  busi- 
ness, went  one  of  the  cleverest  fellows  ever  known  at  Tiv- 
erton. He  could  v/rite  Latin  verses  a  great  deal  faster 
than  I  could  ever  write  English  prose,  and  nothing  seemed 
too  great  for  him.  We  thought  that  he  would  go  to  Oxford 
and  astonish  every  one,  and  write  in  the  style  of  Buchanan, 
but  he  fell  all  abroad  very  lamentably;  and  now,  when  I 
met  him  again,  was  come  down  to  push-pin  and  shovel- 
board,  with  a  wager  of  spirits  pending. 

When  Master  Huckaback  came  home,  he  looked  at  me 
very  sulkily;  not  only  because  of  my  refusal  to  become  a 
slave  to  the  gold-digging,  but  also  because  he  regarded  me 
as  the  cause  of  a  savage  broil  between  Simon  Carfax  and 
the  men  who  had  cheated  him  as  to  his  Gwenny.  How- 
ever, when  Uncle  Ben  saw  Ruth,  and  knew  what  had 
befallen  her,  and  she  with  tears  in  her  eyes  declared  that 
sho  owed  her  life  to  Cousin  Ridd,  the  old  man  became  very 
gracious  to  me;  for  if  he  loved  any  one  on  earth,  it  was 
his  little  granddaughter. 

I  could  not  stay  very  long,  because  my  horse  being  quite 
unfit  to  travel,  from  the  injuries  which  his  violence  and 
vice  had  brought  upon  him,  there  was  nothing  for  me  but  to 
go  on  foot,  as  none  of  Uncle  Ben's  horses  could  take  me 
to  Plovers  Barrows  without  downright  cruelty;  and 
though  there  would  be  a  harvest-moon,  Ruth  agreed  with 


TBBJREFOnE  HE  SEEKS  OOMFOHT.  565 

me  that  I  must  not  keep  my  mother  waiting,  with  no  idea 
where  I  might  be,  until  a  late  hour  of  the  night.  I  told 
Ruth  all  about  our  Annie,  and  her  noble  furniture;  and 
the  little  maid  was  very  lively  (although)  her  wounds  were 
paining  her  so  that  half  her  laughter  came  *'  on  the  wrong 
side  of  her  mouth,"  as  we  rather  coarsely  express  it;  espe- 
cially she  laughed  about  Annie^s  new-fangled  closet  for 
clothes,  or  standing-press,  as  she  called  it.  This  had 
frightened  me  so  that  I  would  not  come  without  my  stick 
to  look  at  it;  for  the  front  was  inlaid  with  two  fiery 
dragons,  and  a  glass  which  distorted  everything,  making 
even  Annie  look  hideous;  and  when  it  was  opened,  a 
woman's  skeleton,  all  in  white,  revealed  itself  in  the  midst 
of  three  standing  women.  **  It  is  only  to  keep  my  best 
frocks  in  shape,"  Annie  had  explained  tome;  *Mianging 
them  up  does  ruin  them  so.  But  I  own  that  I  was  afraid 
of  it,  John,  until  I  had  got  all  my  best  clothes  there,  and 
then  I  became  very  fond  of  it.  But  even  now  it  frightens 
me  sometimes  in  the  moonlight." 

Having  made  poor  Ruth  a  little  cheerful,  with  a  full  ac- 
count of  all  Annie's  frocks,  material,  pattern  and  fashion 
(of  which  I  had  taken  a  list  for  my  mother  and  for  Lizzie, 
lest  they  should  cry  out  at  man's  stupidity  about  anything 
of  real  interest),  I  proceeded  to  tell  her  about  my  own 
troubles,  and  the  sudden  departure  of  Lorna;  concluding, 
with  all  the  show  of  indifference  which  my  pride  could 
muster,  that  now  I  never  should  see  her  again,  and  must 
do  my  best  to  forget  her,  as  being  so  far  above  me.  I  had 
not  intended  to  speak  of  this;  but  Ruth's  face  was  so  kind 
and  earnest  that  I  could  not  stop  myself. 

*' You  must  not  talk  like  that.  Cousin  Ridd,"  she  said, 
in  a  low  and  gentle  tone,  and  turning  away  her  eyes  from 
me;  "  no  lady  can  be  above  a  man  who  is  pure,  and  brave, 
and  gentle.  And  if  her  heart  be  worth  having,  she  will 
never  let  you  give  her  up  for  her  grandeur  and  her 
nobility." 

She  pronounced  those  last  few  words,  as  I  thought,  with 
a  little  bitterness,  unperceived  by  herself,  perhaps,  for  it 
was  not  in  her  appearance.  But  I,  attaching  great  impor- 
tance to  a  maiden's  opinion  about  a  maiden  (because  she 
might  judge  from  experience),  would  have  led  her  further 
into  that  subject.     But  she  declined  to  follow,  having  now 


556  LoniTA  DOOME, 

no  more  to  say  in  a  matter  so  removed  from  her.  Then  1 
asked  her  full  and  straight,  and  looking  at  her  in  such  a 
manner  that  she  could  not  look  away  without  appearing 
vanquished  by  feelings  of  her  own— which  thing  was  very 
vile  of  me;  but  all  men  are  so  selfish 

"  Dear  cousin,  tell  me,  once  for  all,  what  is  your  advice 
to  me?'' 

"My  advice  to  you,"  she  answered  bravely,  with  her 
dark  eyes  full  of  pride,  and  instead  of  flinching,  foiling 
me,  "  is  to  do  what  every  man  must  do,  if  he  would  win 
fair  maiden.  Since  she  cannot  send  you  token,  neither  is 
free  to  return  to  you,  follow  her;  pay  your  court  to  her; 
show  that  you  will  not  be  forgotten ;  and  perhaps  she  will 
look  down — I  mean  she  will  relent  to  you." 

"  She  has  nothing  to  relent  about.  I  have  never  vexed 
nor  injured  her.  My  thoughts  have  never  strayed  from 
her.     There  is  no  one  to  compare  with  her." 

"Then  keep  her  in  that  same  mind  about  you.  See, 
now,  I  can  advise  no  more.  My  arm  is  swelling  painfully, 
in  spite  of  all  your  goodness  and  bitter  task  of  surgeonship. 
I  shall  have  another  poultice  on,  and  go  to  bed,  I  think, 
Cousin  Ridd,  if  you  will  not  hold  me  ungrateful.  I  am  so 
sorry  for  your  long  walk.  Surely  it  might  be  avoided. 
Give  my  love  to  dear  Lizzie;  oh,  the  room  is  going  round 
so." 

And  she  fainted  into  the  arms  of  Sally,  who  was  come 
just  in  time  to  fetch  her.  No  doubt  she  had  been  suffer- 
ing agony  all  the  time  she  talked  to  me.  Leaving  word 
that  I  would  come  again  to  inquire  for  her,  and  fetch 
Kickums  home,  so  soon  as  the  harvest  permitted  me,  I 
gave  directions  about  the  horse,  and  striding  away  from 
the  ancient  town,  was  soon  upon  the  moor-lands. 

Now,  through  the  whole  oi  that  long  walk — the  latter 
part  of  which  was  led  by  star-light  till  the  moon  arose—  1 
dwelt,  in  my  young  and  foolish  way,  upon  the  ordering  of 
our  steps  by  a  Power  beyond  us.  But  as  I  could  not  bring 
my  mind  to  any  clearness  upon  this  matter,  and  the  stars 
shed  no  light  upon  it,  but  rather  confused  me  with  won- 
dering how  their  Lord  could  attend  to  them  all,  and  yet  to 
a  puny  fool  like  me  it  came  to  pass  that  my  thoughts  on 
the  subject  were  not  worth  ink,  if  1  knew  them. 

But  it  is  perhaps  worth  ink  to  relate,  so  far  ai  I  can  do 


THEREFOHE  MB  SEEKS  COMFORT,  661 

so,  mother's  delight  at  my  return,  when  she  had  almost 
abandoned  hope,  and  concluded  that  I  was  gone  to 
London,  in  disgust  at  her  behavior.  And  now  she  was 
looking  up  the  lane,  at  the  rise  of  the  harvest-moon,  in 
despair,  as  she  said  afterward.  But  if  she  had  despaired 
in  truth,  what  use  to  look  at  all?  Yet  according  to  the 
epigram  made  by  a  good  Bluudellite: 

"  Despair  was  never  yet  so  deep 
In  sinking  as  in  seeming; 
Despair  is  hope  just  dropp'd  asleep, 
For  better  chance  of  dreaming." 

And  mother's  dream  was  a  happy  one  when  she  knew 
my  step  at  a  furlong  distant;  for  the  night  was  of  those 
that  carry  sounds  thrice  as  far  as  day  can.  She  recovered 
herself  when  she  was  sure,  and  even  made  up  her  mind  to 
scold  me,  and  felt  as  if  she  could  do  it.  But  when  she  was 
in  my  arms,  into  which  she  threw  herself,  and  I  by  the 
light  of  the  moon  descried  the  silver  gleam  on  one  side  of 
her  head  (now  spreading  since  Annie's  departure),  bless 
my  heart  and  yours  therewith,  no  room  was  left  for  scold- 
ing. She  hugged  me,  and  she  clung  to  me;  and  I  looked 
at  her,  with  duty  made  tenfold,  and  discharged  by  love. 
We  said  nothing  to  one  another,  but  all  was  right  between 
us. 

Even  Lizzie  behaved  very  well,  so  far  as  her  nature  ad- 
mitted; not  even  saying  a  nasty  thing  all  the  time  she  was 
getting  my  supper  ready,  with  a  weak  imitation  of  Annie. 
She  knew  that  the  gift  of  cooking  was  not  vouchsafed  by 
God  to  her;  but  sometimes  she  would  do  her  best,  by  in- 
tellect, to  win  it.  Whereas  it  is  no  more  to  be  won  by 
intellect  than  is  divine  poetry.  An  amount  of  strong 
quick  heart  is  needful,  and  the  understanding  must  second 
it,  in  the  one  art  as  in  the  other.  Now  my  fare  was  very 
choice  for  the  next  three  days  or  more,  yet  not  turned  out 
like  Annie's.  They  could  do  a  thing  well  enough  on  the 
fire,  but  they  could  not  put  it  on  the  table  so,  nor  even 
have  plates  all  piping  hot.  This  was  Annie's  special  gift; 
born  in  her,  and  ready  to  cool  with  her;  like  a  plate  borne 
away  from  the  fire-place.  I  sighed  sometimes  about 
Lorna,  and  they  thought  it  was  about  the  plates.  And 
mother  would  stand  and  look  at  me,  as  much  as  to  say. 


558  LORNA  DOONB, 

'*  No  pleasing  him;"  and  Lizzie  would  jerk  up  one  shoul- 
der, and  cry,  "He  had  better  have  Lorna  to  cook  for 
him;''  while  the  whole  truth  was  that  I  wanted  not  to  be 
plagued  about  any  cookery,  but  just  to  have  something 
good  and  quiet,  and  then  smoke  and  think  about  Lorna. 

Nevertheless,  the  time  went  on,  with  one  change  and 
another!  and  we  gathered  all  our  harvest  in,  and  Parson 
Bowden  thanked  God  for  it,  both  in  church  and  out  of  it; 
for  his  tithes  would  be  very  goodly.  The  unmatched  cold 
of  the  previous  winter,  and  general  fear  of  scarcity,  and 
our  own  talk  about  our  ruin,  had  sent  prices  up  to  a  grand 
high  pitch,  and  we  did  our  best  to  keep  them  there.  For 
nine  Englishmen  out  of  every  ten  believe  that  a  bitter  winter 
must  breed  a  sour  summer,  and  explain  away  topmost 
prices.  While  according  to  my  experience,  more  often  it 
would  be  otherwise,  except  for  the  public  thinking  so. 
However,  I  have  said  too  much;  and  if  any  farmer  reads 
my  book,  he  will  vow  that  I  wrote  it  for  nothing  else  except 
to  rob  his  family. 


TBE  Kim  MtrsT  Sot  be  pha  ted  por. 


CHAPTER  LXII. 

THE   KING   MUST   NOT   BE   PRAYED  FOB. 

All  our  neighborhood  was  surprised  that  the  Doones  had 
not  ere  now  attacked,  and  probably  made  an  end  of  us. 
For  we  lay  almost  at  their  mercy  now,  having  only  Sergeant 
Bloxham  and  three  men  to  protect  us.  Captain  Stickles 
having  been  ordered  southward  with  all  his  force,  except 
such  as  might  be  needful  for  collecting  toll,  and  watching 
the  imports  at  Lynmouth,  and  thence  to  Porlock.  The 
Sergeant,  having  now  imbibed  a  taste  for  writing  reports 
(though  his  first  great  eilort  had  done  him  no  good,  and 
only  offended  Stickles),  reported  weekly  from  Plovers  Bar- 
rows whenever  he  could  find  a  messenger.  And  though  we 
fed  not  Sergeant  Bloxham  at  our  own  table  with  the  best 
we  had  (as  in  the  case  of  Stickles,  who  represented  His 
Majesty),  yet  we  treated  him  so  well  that  he  reported  very 
highly  of  us  as  loyal  and  true-hearted  lieges,  and  most  de- 
voted to  our  lord  the  King.  And  indeed  he  could  scarcely 
have  done  less,  when  Lizzie  wrote  great  part  of  his  reports, 
and  furbished  up  the  rest  to  such  a  pitch  of  lustre,  that 
Lord  Clarendon  himself  need  scarce  have  been  ashamed 
of  them.  And  though  this  cost  a  great  deal  of  ale,  and 
even  of  strong  waters  (for  Lizzie  would  have  it  the  duty  of 
a  critic  to  stand  treat  to  the  author),  and  though  it  was 
otherwise  a  plague,  as  giving  the  maid  such  airs  of  patron- 
age, and  such  pretense  to  politics,  yet  there  was  no  stop- 
ping it  without  the  risk  of  mortal  offense  to  both  writer 
and  reviewer.  Our  mother  also,  while  disapproving  Lizzie's 
long  stay  in  the  saddle-room  on  a  Friday  night  and  a 
Saturday,  and  insisting  that  Betty  should  be  there,  was 
nevertheless  as  proud  as  need  be  that  the  King  should  read 
our  Eliza's  writing — at  least  so  the  innocent  soul  believed 
— and  we  all  looked  forward  to  something  great  as  the  fruit 
of  all  this  history.     And  something  great  did  come  of  it. 


660 


LORNA  DOONE. 


though  not  as  we  expected ;  for  these  reports,  or  as  many  of 
them  as  were  ever  opened,  stood  us  in  good  stead  the  next 
year  when  we  were  accused  of  harboring  and  comforting 
guilty  rebels. 

Now  the  reason  why  the  Doones  did  not  attack  us  was 
that  they  were  preparing  to  meet  another  and  more  power- 
ful assault  upon  their  fortress;  being  assured  that  their  re- 
pluse  of  King's  troops  could  not  be  looked  over  when 
brought  before  the  authorities.  And  no  doubt  they  were 
right;  for  although  the  conflicts  in  the  Government  during 
that  summer  and  autumn  had  delayed  the  matter,  yet 
positive  orders  had  been  issued  that  these  outlaws  and  male- 
factors should  at  any  price  be  brought  to  justice,  when  the 
sudden  death  of  King  Charles  Ihe  Second  threw  all  things 
into  confusion,  and  all  minds  into  a  panic. 

We  heard  of  it  first  in  church  on  Sunday,  the  eighth 
day  of  February,  1684-5,  from  a  cousin  of  John  Fry,  who 
had  ridden  over  on  purpose  from  Porlock.  He  came  in 
just  before  the  anthem,  splashed  and  heated  from  his  ride, 
so  that  every  one  turned  and  looked  at  him.  He  wanted  to 
create  a  stir  (knowing  how  much  would  be  made  of  him), 
and  he  took  the  best  way  to  do  it.  For  he  let  the  anthem 
go  by  very  quietly — or,  rather,  I  should  say  very  pleasingly, 
for  our  choir  was  exceeding  proud  of  itself,  and  I  sung  bass 
twice  as  loud  as  a  bull,  to  beat  the  clerk  with  the  clarionet 
— and  then  just  as  Parson  Bowden,  with  a  look  of  pride  at 
his  minstrels,  was  kneeling  down  to  begin  the  prayer  for 
the  King's  Most  Excellent  Majesty  (for  he  never  read  the 
litany  except  upon  Easter  Sunday),  up  jumps  young  Sam 
Fry,  and  shouts: 

"I  forbid  that  there  prai-er." 

"  What!"  cried  the  parson,  rising  slowly,  and  looking  for 
some  one  to  shut  the  door;  '^have  we  a  rebel  in  the  con- 
gregation?" For  the  parson  was  growing  short-sighted 
now,  and  knew  not  Sam  Fry  at  that  distance. 

"  No,"  replied  Sam,  not  a  whit  abashed  by  the  staring 
of  all  the  parish;  '^  no  rebel,  parson;  but  a  man  who  mis- 
laiketh  popery  and  murder.  That  there  prai-er  be  a  prai-er 
for  the  dead."  ^ 

'^  Nay,"  cried  the  parson,  now  recognizing  and  knowing 
him  to  be  our  John's  first  cousin,  '^  you  do  not  mean  to 
say,  Sam,  that  His  Gracious  Majesty  is  dead?" 


THE  ICING  MlTSf  NOT  BE  PBA  i'JUl)  FOB.         561 

*'  Dead  as  a  sto-nn:  poisoned  by  they  papishers."  And 
Sam  rubbed  his  hands  with  enjoyment  at  the  effect  he  had 
produced. 

"Remember  where  you  are,  Sam,"  said  Parson  Bowden, 
solemnly;  "when  did  this  most  sad  thing  happen?  The 
King  is  the  head  of  the  Church,  Sam  Fry;  when  did  His 
Majesty  leave  her?" 

^*Day  afore  yesterday.  Twelve  o'clock.  Warn't  us 
quick  to  hear  of  'un?" 

"  Can't  be,"  said  the  minister;  '^  the  tidings  can  never 
have  come  so  soon.  Anyhow,  he  will  want  it  all  the  more. 
Let  us  pray  for  His  Gracious  Majesty." 

And  with  that  he  proceeded  as  usual;  but  nobody  cried 
"  Amen,"  for  fear  of  being  entangled  with  popery.  But 
after  giving  forth  his  text,  our  parson  said  a  few  words 
out  of  book  about  the  many  virtues  of  His  Majesty,  and 
self-denial  and  devotion,  comparing  his  pious  mirth  to  the 
dancing  of  the  patriarch  David  before  tlie  ark  of  the 
covenant;  and  he  added,  with  some  severity,  that  if  his 
flock  would  not  join  their  pastor  (who  was  much  more 
likely  to  judge  aright)  in  praying  for  the  King,  the  least 
they  could  do  on  returning  home  was  to  pray  that  the 
King  might  not  be  dead,  as  his  enemies  had  asserted. 

Now  when  the  service  was  over,  we  killed  the  King,  and 
we  brought  him  to  life,  at  least  fifty  times  in  the  church- 
yard; and  Sam  Fry  was  mounted  on  a  high  gravestone,  to 
tell  every  one  all  he  knew  of  it.  But  he  knew  no  more 
than  he  had  told  us  in  the  church,  as  before  repeated:  upon 
which  we  were  much  disappointed  with  him,  and  inclined 
to  disbelieve  him,  until  he  happily  remembered  that  his 
Majesty  had  died  in  great  pain,  with  blue  spots  on  his 
breast  and  black  spots  all  across  his  back,  and  these  in  the 
form  of  a  cross,  by  reason  of  Papists  having  poisoned  him. 
When  Sam  called  this  to  his  rememberance  (or  to  his 
imagination),  he  was  overwhelmed  at  once  with  so  many 
invitations  to  dinner  that  he  scarce  knew  which  of  them  to 
accept,  but  decided  in  our  favor. 

Grieving  much  for  the  loss  of  the  King,  however  greatly 
it  might  be  (as  the  parson  liad  declared  it  was,  while  tell- 
ing us  to  pray  against  it)  for  the  royal  benefit,  I  resolved 
to  ride  to  Porlock  myself  directly  after  dinner,  and  make 
sure  whether  he  were  dead  or  not.     For  it  was  not  by  any 


56^  LORNA  DOONE. 

means  hard  to  suppose  that  Sam  Fry,  being  John's  first 
cousin,  might  have  inherited  either  from  grandfather  or 
grandmother  some  of  those  gifts  which  had  made  our  John 
so  famous  for  mendacity.  At  Porlock  I  found  that  it  was 
too  true;  and  t]i3  women  of  the  town  were  in  great 
distress,  for  the  King  had  always  been  popular  with  them: 
the  men,  on  the  other  hand,  were  forecasting  what  would 
be  likely  to  ensue. 

And  I  myself  was  of  this  number,  riding  sadly  home 
again,  although  bound  to  the  King  as  church-warden  now; 
which  dignity,  next  to  the  parson's  in  rank,  is  with  us  (as 
it  ought  to  be  in  every  good  parish)  hereditary.  For  wiio 
can  stick  to  the  Church  like  the  man  whose  father  stuck 
to  it  before  him;  and  who  knows  all  the  little  ins  and 
great  outs  which  must  in  these  troublous  times  come 
across. 

But  though  appointed  at  last,  by  virtue  of  being  best 
farmer  in  the  parish  (as  well  as  by  vice  of  mismanagement 
on  the  part  of  my  mother,  and  Nicholas  Snowe,  who  had 
thoroughly  muxed  up  everything,  being  too  quick-headed); 
yet,  while  I  dwelt  with  pride  upon  the  fact  that  I  stood  in 
the  King's  shoes,  as  the  manager  and  promoter  of  the 
Church  of  England;  and  I  knew  that  we  must  miss  His 
Majesty  (whose  arms  were  above  the  Commandments),  as 
the  leader  of  our  thoughts  in  church,  and  handsome  upon 
a  guinea,  nevertheless  I  kept  on  thinking  how  his  death 
would  act  on  me. 

And  here  I  saw  it  many  ways.  In  the  first  place, 
troubles  must  break  out;  and  we  had  eight-and-twenty 
ricks,  counting  grain,  and  straw,  and  hay.  Moreover, 
mother  was  growing  weak  about  riots,  and  shooting,  and 
burning;  and  she  gathered  the  bedclothes  around  her  ears 
every  night  when  her  feet  were  tucked  up,  and  prayed  not 
to  awake  until  morning.  In  the  next  place,  much  rebel- 
lion (though  we  would  not  own  it,  in  each  sense  of  the 
verb  "  to  own")  was  whispering,  and  plucking  skirts,  and 
making  signs  among  us.  And  the  terror  of  the  Doones 
helped  greatly,  as  a  fruitful  tree  of  lawlessness,  and  a  good 
excuse  for  every  body.  And  after  this — or  rather  before 
it,  and  first  of  all  indeed  (if  I  must  state  the  true  order) — 
arose  upon  me  the  thought  of  Lorna,  and  how  these  things 
would  affect  her  fate. 


THE  KINO  MUST  NOT  BE  PR  A  TED  FOR.         565 

And  indeed  I  must  admit  that  it  had  occurred  to  me 
sometimes,  or  been  suggested  by  others,  that  the  Lady 
Lorna  had  not  behaved  altogether  kindly  since  her  depart- 
ure from  among  us.  For  although  in  those  days  the  post, 
as  we  call  the  service  of  letter-carrying,  which  now  comes 
within  twenty  miles  of  us,  did  not  extend  to  our  part  of 
the  world,  yet  it  might  have  been  possible  to  procure  for 
hire  a  man  who  would  ride  post,  if  Lorna  feared  to  trust 
the  pack-horses,  or  the  troopers,  who  went  to  and  fro.  Yet 
no  message  whatever  had  reached  us,  neither  any  token 
even  of  her  safety  in  London.  As  to  this  last,  however, 
we  had  no  misgivings,  having  learned  from  the  orderlies 
more  than  once  that  the  wealth  and  beauty,  and  adven- 
tures of  young  Lady  Lorna  Dugal  were  greatly  talked  of, 
both  at  court  and  among  the  common  people. 

Now,  riding  sadly  homeward,  in  the  sunset  of  the  early 
spring,  I  was  more  than  ever  touched  with  sorrow,  and  a 
sense  of  being,  as  it  were,  abandoned.  And  the  weather  grow- 
ing quite  beautiful,  and  so  mild  that  the  trees  were  bud- 
ding, and  the  cattle  full  of  happiness,  I  could  not  but 
think  of  the  difference  between  the  world  of  to-day  and 
the  world  of  this  day  twelvemonth.  Then  was  all  howling 
desolation,  all  the  earth  blocked  up  with  snow,  and  all  the 
air  with  barbs  of  ice  as  small  as  splintered  needles,  yet 
glittering  in  and  out  like  stars,  and  gathering  so  upon  a 
man  (if  long  he  stayed  among  them)  that  they  began  to 
weigh  him  down  to  sleepiness  and  frozen  death.  Kot  a 
sign  of  life  was  moving,  nor  was  any  change  of  view,  un- 
less the  wild  wind  struck  the  crest  of  some  cold  drift  and 
bowed  it. 

Now,  on  the  other  hand,  all  was  good.  The  open  palm 
of  spring  was  laid  upon  the  yielding  of  the  hills,  and  each 
particular  valley  seemed  to  be  the  glove  for  a  finger.  And 
although  the  sun  was  low,  and  dipping  in  the  western 
clouds,  the  gray  light  of  the  sea  came  up  and  took,  and 
taking,  told  the  special  tone  of  everything.  All  this  lay 
upon  my  heart  without  a  word  of  thinking,  spreading  light 
and  shadow  there,  and  the  soft  delight  of  sadness.  Never- 
theless, I  would  it  were  the  savage  snow  around  me,  and 
the  piping  of  the  restless  winds,  and  the  death  of  every- 
thing.    For  in  those  days  I  had  Lorna. 

Then  I  thought  of  promise  fair,  such  as  glowed  around 


564  LORNA  BOONE. 

me  where  the  red  rocks  held  the  sun  when  he  was  departed 
and  the  distant  crags  endeavored  to  retain  his  memory. 
But  as  evening  spread  across  them,  shading  with  a  silent 
fold,  all  the  color  stole  away,  all  remembrance  waned  and 
died. 

"  So  has  it  been  with  love,"  I  thought,  "  and  with  sim- 
ple truth  and  warmth.  The  maid  has  chosen  the  glitter- 
ing stars  instead  of  the  plain  daylight." 

Kevertheless  I  would  not  give  in,  although  in  deep  de- 
spondency (especially  when  1  passed  the  place  where  my 
dear  father  had  fought  in  vain),  and  I  tried  to  see  things 
right,  and  then  judge  aright  about  them.  This,  however, 
was  more  easy  to  attempt  than  to  achieve;  and  by  the  time 
I  came  down  the  hill,  1  was  none  the  wiser.  Only  I  could 
tell  my  mother  that  the  King  was  dead  for  sure;  and  she 
would  have  tried  to  cry,  but  for  thought  of  her  mourning. 

There  was  not  a  moment  for  lamenting.  All  the  mourn- 
ing must  be  ready  (if  we  cared  to  beat  the  Snowes)  in 
eight-and-forty  hours:  and  although  it  was  Sunday  night, 
mother  now  feeling  sure  of  the  thing,  sat  up  with  Lizzie 
cutting  patterns,  and  stitching  things  on  brown  paper  and 
snipping,  and  laying  the  fashions  down,  and  requesting  all 
opinions,  yet  when  given  scorning  them;  insomuch  that  I 
grew  weary  even  of  tobacco  (which  had  comforted  me  since 
Lorna),  and  prayed  her  to  go  on  until  the  King  should  be 
alive  again. 

The  thought  of  that  so  flurried  her — for  she  never  yet 
could  see  a  joke — that  she  laid  her  scissors  on  the  table  and 
said,  "The  Lord  forbid,  John,  after  what  I  have  cut  up?" 

''  It  would  be  just  like  him,"  I  answered,  with  a  know- 
ing smile.  *'  Mother,  you  had  better  stop.  Patterns  may 
do  very  well,  but  don't  cut  up  any  more  good  stuff." 

'*  Well,  good  lack,  I  am  a  fool!  Three  tables  pegged 
with  needles!  The  Lord  in  His  mercy,  keep  His  Majesty, 
if  ever  He  hath  gotten  him!" 

By  this  device  we  went  to  bed ;  and  not  another  stitch 
was  struck  until  the  troopers  had  office-tidings  that  the 
King  was  truly  dead.  Hence  the  Snowes  beat  us  by  a  day; 
and  both  old  Betty  and  Lizzie  laid  the  blame  upon  me,  as 
usual. 

Almost  before  we  had  put  off  the  mourning,  which  as 
loyal  subjects  we  kept  for  the  King  three  months  and  a 


THE  RmO  MUST  NOT  BE  PRA  YED  FOR.         565 

week,  rumors  of  disturbances,  of  plottings,  and  of  outbreak 
began  to  stir  among  us.  We  heard  of  fighting  in  Scot- 
land, and  buying  of  ships  on  the  Continent,  and  of  arms  in 
Dorset  and  Somerset;  and  we  kept  our  beacon  in  readiness 
to  give  signals  of  a  landing;  or,  rather,  the  soldiers  did. 
For  we,  having  trustworthy  reports  that  the  King  had  been 
to  high  mass  himself  in  the  Abbey  of  Westminster,  making 
all  the  bishops  go  with  him,  and  all  the  guards  in  London, 
and  then  tortured  all  the  Protestants  who  dared  to  wait 
outside,  moreover,  had  received  from  the  Pope  a  flower 
grown  in  the  Virgin  Mary's  garden,  and  warranted  to  last 
forever,  we  of  the  moderate  party,  hearing  all  this  and  ten 
times  as  much,  and  having  no  love  for  this  sour  James  such 
as  we  had  for  the  lively  Charles,  were  ready  to  wait  for 
what  might  happen,  rather  than  care  about  stopping  it. 
Therefore  we  listened  to  rumors  gladly,  and  shook  our 
heads  with  gravity,  and  predicted  every  man  something, 
but  scarce  any  two  the  same.  Nevertheless,  in  our  part, 
things  went  on  as  usual,  until  the  middle  of  June  was  nigh. 
We  plowed  the  ground,  and  sowed  the  corn,  and  tended 
the  cattle,  and  heeded  every  one  his  neighbor's  business,  as 
carefully  as  heretofore;  and  the  only  thing  that  moved  us 
much  was  that  Annie  had  a  baby.  This  being  a  very  fine 
child,  with  blue  eyes,  and  christened  *'John"  in  compli- 
ment to  me,  and  with  me  for  his  godfather,  it  is  natural  to 
suppose  that  1  thought  a  good  deal  about  him;  and  when 
mother  or  Lizzie  would  ask  me  all  of  a  sudden,  and  treach- 
erously, when  the  fire  flared  up  at  supper-time  (for  we 
always  kept  a  little  wood  just  alight  in  summer-time,  and 
enough  to  make  the  pot  boil),  then  when  they  would  say 
to  me,  '*John,  what  are  you  thinking  of?  At  a  word, 
speak!"  I  would  always  answer,  **  Little  John  Faggus;" 
and  so  they  made  no  more  of  me. 

But  when  1  was  down  on  Saturday,  the  thirteenth  of 
June,  at  the  blacksmith's  forge  by  Brendon  town,  where 
the  Lynn-stream  runs  so  close  that  he  dips  his  horseshoes 
in  it,  and  where  the  news  is  apt  to  come  first  of  all  our 
neighborhood  (except  upon  Sunday),  while  we  were  talk- 
ing of  the  hay  crop,  and  of  a  great  sheep-stealer,  round  the 
corner  came  a  man  upon  a  piebald  horse,  looking  flagged 
and  weary.  But  seeing  half  a  dozen  of  us,  young,  and 
brisk,  and  hearty,  he  made  a  flourish  with  his  horse,  and 


566  LORNA  BOONK 

waved  a  blue  flag  vehemently,  shouting,  with  great 
glory. 

"  Monmouth  and  the  Protestant  faith  I  Monmouth  and  no 
Popery!  Monmouth,  the  good  King's  eldest  son!  Down 
with  the  poisoning  murderer!  Down  with  the  black 
usurper,  and  to  the  devil  with  all  papists!" 

"  Why  so,  thou  little  varlet?"  I  asked,  very  quietly;  for 
the  man  was  too  small  to  quarrel  with;  yet  knowing  Lorna 
to  be  a  ''  papist,"  as  we  choose  to  call  them — though  they 
might  as  well  call  us  '^kingists,"  after  the  head  of  our 
Church — I  thought  that  this  scurvy,  scampish  knave  might 
show  them  the  way  to  the  place  he  mentioned,  unless  his 
courage  failed  him. 

''Papist  yourself,  be  you?"  said  the  fellow,  not  daring 
to  answer  much;  ''then  take  this,  and  read  it." 

And  he  handed  me  a  long  rigmarole,  which  he  called  a 
"Declaration."  I  saw  that  it  was  but  a  heap  of  lies,  and 
thrust  it  into  the  blacksmith's  fire,  and  blew  the  bellows 
thrice  at  it.  No  one  dared  attempt  to  stop  me,  for  my 
mood  had  not  been  sweet  of  late;  and  of  course  they  knew 
my  strength. 

The  man  rode  on  with  a  muttering  noise,  having  won  no 
recruits  from  us,  by  force  of  my  example;  and  he  stopped 
at  the  ale-house  further  down,  where  the  road  goes  away 
from  the  Lynn-stream.  Some  of  us  went  thither  after  a 
time,  when  our  horses  were  shodden  and  rasped;  for 
although  we  might  not  like  the  man,  we  might  be  glad  of 
his  tidings,  which  seemed  to  be  something  wonderful.  He 
had  set  up  his  blue  flag  in  the  tap-room,  and  was  teaching 
every  one. 

''Here  coom'th  Maister  Jan  Ridd,"  said  the  landlady, 
being  well  pleased  with  the  call  for  beer  and  cider;  "  her 
hath  been  to  Lunnon-town,  and  live  within  a  maile  of  me. 
Arl  the  news  coom  from  them  nowadays,  instead  of  from 
here,  as  her  ought  to  do.  If  Jan  Ridd  say  it  be  true,  I 
will  try  almost  to  belave  it.  Hath  the  good  Duke  landed, 
sir?"  And  she  looked  at  me  over  a  foaming  cup,  and  blew 
the  froth  ofl*,  and  put  more  in. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  it  is  true  enough,"  I  answered,  before 
drinking;  "and  too  true,  Mistress  Pugsle}^  Many  a  poor 
man  will  die;  but  none  shall  die  from  our  parish^  nor  from 
Brendon,  if  I  can  help  it." 


THE  KING  MUST  NOT  BE  PR  A  TED  FOR.         567 

And  I  knew  that  I  could  help  it;  for  every  one  in  those 
little  places  would  abide  by  my  advice;  not  only  from  the 
fame  of  my  schooling  and  long  sojourn  in  London,  but  also 
because  I  had  earned  repute  for  being  very  **^slow  and 
sure;"  and  with  nine  people  out  of  ten  this  is  the  very  best 
recommendation.  For  they  think  themselves  much  before 
you  in  wit,  and  under  no  obligation,  but  rather  conferring 
a  favor  by  doing  the  thing  that  you  do.  Hence,  if  I  cared 
for  influence — which  means,  for  the  most  part,  making 
people  do  one's  will  without  knowing  it — my  first  step 
toward  it  would  be  to  be  called,  in  common  parlance, 
*' slow  but  sure." 

For  the  next  fortnight  we  were  daily  troubled  with  con- 
flicting rumors,  each  man  relating  what  he  desired,  rather 
than  what  he  had  right  to  believe.  We  were  told  that  the 
Duke  had  been  proclaimed  King  of  England  in  every  town 
of  Dorset  and  of  Somerset;  that  he  had  won  a  great  battle  at 
Axminster,  and  another  at  Bridport,  and  another  some- 
where else;  that  all  the  western  counties  had  risen  as  one 
man  for  him,  and  all  the  militia  joined  his  ranks;  that 
Taunton,  and  Bridge  water,  and  Bristowe  were  all  mad 
with  delight,  the  two  former  being  in  his  hands,  and  the 
latter  craving  to  be  so.  And  then,  on  the  other  hand,  we 
heard  that  the  Duke  had  been  vanquished  and  put  to 
flight,  and,  upon  being  apprehended,  had  confessed  him- 
self an  impostor,  and  a  jiapist  as  bad  as  the  King  was. 

We  longed  for  Colonel  Stickles  (as  he  always  became  in 
tinie  of  war,  though  he  fell  back  to  Captain,  and  even 
Lieutenant,  directly  the  fight  was  over),  for  then  we  should 
have  won  trusty  news,  as  well  as  good  consideration.  But 
even  Sergeant  Bloxham,  much  against  his  will,  was  gone, 
having  left  his  heart  with  our  Lizzie,  and  a  collection  of  all 
his  writings.  All  the  soldiers  had  been  ordered  away  at 
full  speed  for  Exeter,  to  join  the  Duke  of  Albemarle,  or, 
if  he  were  gone,  to  follow  him.  As  for  us,  who  had  fed 
them  so  long  (although  not  quite  for  nothing),  we  must 
take  our  chance  with  the  Doones,  or  any  other  enemies. 

Now  all  these  tidings  moved  me  a  little;  not  enough  to 
spoil  appetite,  but  enough  to  make  things  lively,  and  to 
teach  me  that  look  of  wisdom  which  is  bred  of  practice 
only,  and  the  hearing  of  many  lies.  Therefore,  I  withheld 
my  judgment,  fearing  to  be  triumphed  over,  if  it  should 


568  LORNA  DOONE, 

happen  to  miss  the  mark.  But  mother  and  Lizzie,  ten 
times  in  a  day,  predicted  all  they  could  imagine;  and  their 
prophecies  increased  in  strength  according  to  contradic- 
tion. Yet  this  was  not  in  the  proper  style  for  a  house  like 
ours,  which  knew  the  news,  or  at  least  had  known  it,  and 
still  was  famous  all  around  for  the  last  advices.  Even 
from  Lynmouth  people  sent  up  to  Plovers  Barrows  to  ask 
how  things  were  going  on;  and  it  was  very  grievous  to 
answer  that  in  truth  we  knew  not,  neither  had  heard  for 
days  and  days;  and  our  reputation  was  so  great,  especially 
since  the  death  of  the  King  had  gone  abroad  from  Oare 
parish,  that  many  inquirers  would  only  wink,  and  lay  a 
linger  on  the  lip,  as  if  to  say,  **  You  know  well  enough, 
but  see  not  fit  to  tell  me.^'  And  before  the  end  arrived 
those  people  believed  that  they  had  been  right  all  along, 
and  that  we  had  concealed  the  truth  from  them. 

For  I  myself  became  involved  (God  knows  how  much 
against  my  will  and  my  proper  judgment)  in  the  troubles, 
and  the  conflict,  and  the  cruel  work  coming  afterward.  If 
ever  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  anything  in  all  my  life,  it 
was  at  this  particular  time,  and  as  stern  and  strong  as 
could  be.  I  had  resolved  to  let  things  pass — to  hear  about 
them  gladly,  to  encourage  all  my  friends  to  talk,  and 
myself  to  express  opinion  upon  each  particular  point,  when 
in  the  fullness  of  time  no  further  doubt  could  be.  But  all 
my  policy  went  for  nothing,  through  a  few  touches  of 
feeling. 

One  day  at  the  beginning  of  July  I  came  home  from 
mowing  about  noon,  or  a  little  later,  to  fetch  some  cider 
for  all  of  us,  and  to  eat  a  morsel  of  bacon.  For  mowing 
was  no  joke  that  year,  the  summer  being  wonderfully  wet 
(even  for  our  wet  country),  and  the  swath  falling  heavier 
over  the  scythe  than  ever  I  could  remember  it.  We  were 
drenched  with  rain  almost  every  day;  but  the  mowing 
must  be  done  somehow,  and  we  must  trust  to  God  for  the 
hay-making. 

In  the  court-yard  I  saw  a  little  cart,  with  iron  brakes 
underneath  it,  such  as  fastidious  people  used  to  deaden  the 
jolting  of  the  road;  but  few  men  under  a  lord  or  baronet 
would  be  so  particular.  Therefore,  I  wondered  who  our 
noble  visitor  could  be.  But  when  I  entered  the  kitchen- 
place,  brushing  up  my  hair  for  somebody,  behold  it  was  no 


THE  KING  MUST  NOT  BE  PEA  TED  FOR,         569 

one  greater  than  our  Annie,  with  my  godson  in  her  arms, 
and  looking  pale  and  tear-begone.  And  at  first  she  could 
not  speak  to  me.  But  presently,  having  set  down  a  little, 
and  received  much  praise  for  her  baby,  she  smiled  and 
blushed,  and  found  her  tongue  as  if  she  had  never  gone 
from  us. 

**  How  natural  it  all  looks  again!  Oh,  I  love  this  old 
kitchen  so!  Baby  dear,  only  look  at  it  wid  him  pitty  pitty 
eyes,  and  him  tongue  out  of  his  mousy!  But  who  put  the 
flour-riddle  up  there?  And  look  at  the  pestle  and  mortar, 
and  rust,  I  declare,  in  the  patty-pans!  And  a  book,  posi- 
tively a  dirty  book,  where  the  clean  skewers  ought  to  hang! 
Oh,  Lizzie,  Lizzie,  Lizzie!" 

"You  may  just  as  well  cease  lamenting,"  I  said,  "for 
you  can't  alter  Lizzie's  nature,  and  you  will  only  make 
mother  uncomfortable,  and  perhaps  have  a  quarrel  with 
Lizzie,  who  is  proud  as  Punch  of  her  housekeeping." 

"She!"  cried  Annie,  with  all  the  contempt  that  could 
be  compressed  in  a  syllable.  "  Well,  John,  no  doubt  you 
are  right  about  it.  I  will  try  not  to  notice  things.  But  it 
is  a  hard  thing,  after  all  my  care,  to  see  everything  going 
to  ruin.  But  what  can  be  expected  of  a  girl  who  knows 
all  the  kings  of  Carthage?'' 

"There  were  no  kings  of  Carthage,  Annie.  They  were 
called,  why  let  me  see — they  were  called — oh,  something 


"Never  mind  what  they  were  called,"  said  Annie;  "will 
they  cook  our  dinner  for  us?  But  now,  John,  I  am  in 
such  trouble.     All  this  talk  is  make  believe." 

"  Don't  you  cry,  my  dear,  don't  cry,  my  darling  sister," 
I  answered,  as  she  dropped  into  the  worn  place  of  the  settle, 
and  bent  above  her  infant,  rocking  as  if  both  tlieir  hearts 
were  one;  "don't  you  know,  Annie,  I  cannot  tell,  but  I 
know,  or  at  least  I  mean,  I  have  heard  the  men  of  experi- 
ence say  it  is  so  bad  for  the  baby." 

"  Perhaps  I  know  that  as  well  as  you  do,  John,"  said 
Annie,  looking  up  at  me  with  a  gleam  of  her  old  laughing; 
"but  how  can  I  help  crying?    I  am  in  such  trouble." 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is,  my  dear.  Any  grief  of  yours  will 
vex  me  greatly;  but  I  will  try  to  bear  it." 

"  Then,  John,  it  is  just  this.  Tom  has  gone  off  with 
the  rebels;  and  you  must,  oh  you  must,  go  after  him." 


570  LORNA  DOONE. 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 

JOHK  IS   WORSTED   BY  THE   WOMEN. 

Moved  as  I  was  by  Annie's  tears  and  gentle  style  of  coax- 
ing, and  most  of  all  by  my  love  for  her,  I  yet  declared  that 
I  could  not  go,  and  leave  our  house  and  homestead,  far 
less  my  dear  mother  and  Lizzie,  at  the  mercy  of  the  merci- 
less Doones. 

*'Is  that  all  your  objection,  John?*'  asked  Annie,  in  her 
quick  panting  way;  *'  would  you  go  but  for  that,  John?" 

*'Now,"  I  said,  *'be  in  no  such  hurry" — for  while  I 
was  gradually  yielding,  I  liked  to  pass  it  through  my  fingers, 
as  if  my  fingers  shaped  it;  '*  there  are  many  things  to  be 
thought  about,  and  many  ways  of  viewing  it." 

'*  Oh,  you  never  can  have  loved  Lorna!  No  wonder  you 
gave  her  up  so!  John,  you  can  love  nobody  but  your  oat- 
ricks  and  your  hay-ricks." 

"  Sister  mine,  because  I  rant  not,  neither  rave  of  what  I 
feel,  can  you  be  so  shallow  as  to  dream  that  I  feel  nothing? 
What  is  your  love  for  Tom  Faggus?  What  is  your  love 
for  your  baby  (pretty  darling  as  he  is),  to  compare  with 
such  a  love  as  forever  dwells  with  me?  Because  I  do  not 
prate  of  it;  because  it  is  beyond  me,  not  only  to  express, 
but  even  form,  to  my  own  heart  in  thoughts;  because  I  do 
not  shape  my  face,  and  would  scorn  to  play  to  it,  as  a 
thing  of  acting,  and  lay  it  out  before  you,  and  you  fools 

enough    to  think "    But  here  I  stopped,  having  said 

more  than  was  usual  with  me. 

'^  I  am  very  sorry,  John.  Dear  John,  I  am  so  sorry. 
What  a  shallow  fool  I  am !" 

*'l  will  go  seek  your  husband,"  I  said,  to  change  the 
subject,  for  even  to  Annie  I  would  not  lay  open  all  my 
heart  about  Lorna,  "but  only  upon  condition  that  you 
insure  this  house  and  people  from  the  Doones  meanwhile. 
Even  for  the  sake  of  Tom,  I  cannot  leave  all  helpless.    The 


JOHN  IS  WORSTED  BY  THE  WOMEN.  571 

oat-ricks  and  the  hay-ricks,  which  are  my  only  love,  they 
are  welcome  to  make  cinders  of.  But  I  will  not  have 
mother  treated  so;  nor  even  little  Lizzie,  although  you  scorn 
your  sister  so." 

"  Oh,  John,  I  do  think  you  are  the  hardest,  as  well  as 
the  softest  of  all  men  I  know.  Not  even  a  woman^s  bitter 
word  but  what  you  pay  her  out  for.  Will  you  never  under- 
stand that  we  are  not  like  you,  John?  We  say  all  sorts  of 
spiteful  things,  without  a  bit  of  meaning.  John,  for  God^s 
sake  fetch  Tom  home;  and  then  revile  me  as  you  please, 
and  I  will  kneel  and  thank  you." 

*'  I  will  not  promise  to  fetch  him  home,"  I  answered, 
being  ashamed  of  myself  for  having  lost  command  so,  ''  but 
I  will  promise  to  do  my  best,  if  we  can  only  hit  on  a  plan 
for  leaving  mother  harmless." 

Annie  thought  for  a  little  while,  tr3nng  to  gather  her 
smooth,  clear  brow  into  maternal  wrinkles,  and  then  she 
looked  at  her  child,  and  said,  "  I  will  risk  it,  for  daddy's 
sake,  darling;  you  precious  soul,  for  daddy's  sake."  I 
asked  her  what  she  was  going  to  risk.  She  would  not  tell 
me,  but  took  upper  hand,  and  saw  to  my  cider-cans  and 
bacon,  and  went  from  corner  to  cupboard,  exactly  as  if  she 
had  never  been  married,  only  without  an  apron  on.  And 
then  she  said:  "  Now  to  your  mowers,  John;  and  make  the 
most  of  this  fine  afternoon;  kiss  your  godson  before  you 
go."  And  I,  being  used  to  obey  her  in  little  things  of  that 
sort,  kissed  the  baby,  and  took  my  cans,  and  went  back  to 
my  scythe  again. 

By  the  time  I  came  home  it  was  dark  night,  and  pouring 
again  with  a  foggy  rain  such  as  we  have  in  July,  even  more 
than  in  January.  Being  soaked  all  through  and  through, 
and  with  water  quashing  in  my  boots  like  a  pump  with  a  bad 
bucket,  I  was  only  too  glad  to  find  Annie's  bright  face  and 
quick  figure  flitting  in  and  out  the  fire  light,  instead  of 
Lizzie  sitting  grandly,  with  a  feast  of  literature,  and  not  a 
drop  of  gravy.  Mother  was  in  the  corner  also,  with  her 
cherry-colored  ribbons  glistening  very  nice  by  candle-light, 
looking  at  Annie  now  and  then  with  memories  of  her  baby- 
hood, and  then  at  her  having  a  baby;  yet  half  afraid  of 
praising  her  much,  for  fear  of  that  young  Lizzie.  But 
Lizzie  showed  no  jealousy.  She  truly  loved  our  Annie 
(now  that  she  was  gone  from  us),  and  she  wanted  to  know 


572  LORNA  DOONE. 

all  sorts  of  things,  and  she  adored  the  baby.  Therefore 
Annie  was  allowed  to  attend  to  me  as  she  used  to  do. 

''  Now,  John,  you  must  start  the  first  thing  in  the  morn- 
ing/' she  said,  when  the  others  had  left  the  room,  but 
somehow  she  stuck  to  the  baby,  ''  to  fetch  me  back  my 
rebel,  according  to  your  promise." 

"Not  so,''  I  replied,  misliking  the  job;  "all  I  promised 
was  to  go,  if  this  house  was  assured  against  any  onslaught 
of  the  Doones." 

"Just  so>  and  here  is  that  assurance."  With  these 
words  she  drew  forth  a  paper,  and  laid  it  on  my  knee  with 
triumph,  enjoying  my  amazement.  This,  as  you  may  sup- 
pose, was  great;  not  only  at  the  document,  but  also  at  her 
possession  of  it.  For  in  truth  it  was  no  less  than  a  formal 
undertaking  on  the  part  of  the  Doones  not  to  attack  Plovers 
Barrows  farm,  or  molest  any  of  the  inmates,  or  carry  off 
any  chattels,  during  the  absence  of  John  Ridd  upon  a 
special  errand.  This  document  was  signed  not  only  by  the 
Counselor,  but  by  many  other  Doones;  whether  Carver's 
name  was  there,  I  could  not  say  for  certain,  as  of  course  he 
would  not  sign  it  under  his  name  of  "  Carver,"  and  I  had 
never  heard  Lorna  say  to  what  (if  any)  he  had  been 
baptized. 

In  the  face  of  such  a  deed  as  this,  I  could  no  longer 
refuse  to  go;  and  having  received  my  promise,  Annie  told 
me  (as  was  only  fair)  how  she  had  procured  that  paper.  It 
was  both  a  clever  and  a  courageous  act,  and  would  have 
seemed  to  me,  at  first  sight,  far  beyond  Annie's  power.  But 
none  may  gauge  a  woman's  power  when  her  love  and  faith 
are  moved. 

The  first  thing  Annie  had  done  was  this:  she  made  her- 
self look  ugly.  This  was  not  an  easy  thing;  but  she  had 
learned  a  great  deal  from  her  husband  upon  the  subject  of 
disguises.  It  hurt  her  feelings  not  a  little  to  make  so  sad 
a  fright  of  herself ;  but  what  could  it  matter? — if  she  lost 
Tom,  she  must  be  a  far  greater  fright  in  earnest,  than  now 
she  was  in  seeming.  And  then  she  left  her  child  asleep, 
under  Betty  Mux  worthy's  tendance — for  Betty  took  to  that 
child  as  if  there  never  had  been  a  child  before — and  away 
she  went  in  her  own  "spring-cart"  (as  the  name  of  that 
engine  proved  to  be),  without  a  word  to  any  one,  except 
the  old  man  who  had  driven  her  from  Mollaud  parish  that 


JOHN  IS  WORSTED  BY  THE  WOMEK.  573 

morning,  and  who  coolly  took  one  of  our  best  horses,  with- 
out "  by  your  leave  "  to  any  one. 

Annie  made  the  old  man  drive  her  within  easy  reach  of 
the  Doone-gate,  whose  position  she  knew  well  enough,  from 
all  our  talk  about  it.  And  there  she  bade  the  old  man  stay 
until  she  should  return  to  him.  Then,  with  her  comely 
figure  hidden  by  a  dirty  old  woman's  cloak,  and  her  fair 
young  face  defaced  by  patches  and  by  liniments,  so  that 
none  might  covet  her,  she  addressed  the  young  men  at  the 
gate  in  a  cracked  and  trembling  voice;  and  they  were 
scarcely  civil  to  the  '*old  hag/'  as  they  called  her.  She 
said  that  she  bore  important  tidings  for  Sir  Counselor  him- 
self, and  must  be  conducted  to  him.  To  him,  accordingly, 
she  was  led,  without  even  any  hoodwinking;  for  she  had 
spectacles  over  her  eyes,  and  made  believe  not  to  see  ten 
yards. 

She  found  Sir  Counselor  at  home,  and  when  the  rest 
were  out  of  sight  threw  off  all  disguise  to  him,  flashing 
forth  as  a  lovely  young  woman,  from  all  her  wraps  and 
disfigurements.  She  flung  her  patches  on  the  floor,  amid 
the  old  man's  laughter,  and  let  her  tucked-up  hair  come 
down,  and  then  went  up  and  kissed  him. 

**  Worthy  and  reverend  Counselor,  I  have  a  favor  to 
ask,"  she  began. 

''  So  I  should  think  from  your  proceedings,"  the  old 
man  interrupted;  *'ah,  if  I  were  half  my  age " 

*^If  you  were,  I  would  not  sue  so.  But  most  excellent 
Counselor,  you  owe  me  some  amends,  you  know,  for  the  way 
in  which  you  robbed  me." 

"Beyond  a  doubt  I  do,  my  dear.  You  have  put  it 
rather  strongly,  and  it  might  offend  some  people.  Never- 
theless I  own  my  debt,  having  so  fair  a  creditor." 

**  And  do  you  remember  how  you  slept,  and  how  much 
we  made  of  you,  and  would  have  seen  you  home,  sir,  only 
you  did  not  wish  it?" 

*'  And  for  excellent  reasons,  child.  My  best  escort  was 
in  my  cloak,  after  we  made  the  cream  to  rise.  Ha,  lia! 
The  unholy  spell.     My  pretty  child  has  it  injured  you?" 

*' Yes,  1  fear  it  has,"  said  Annie;  *^or  whence  can  all 
my  ill  luck  come?"  And  here  she  siiowed  some  signs  of 
crying,  knowing  that  Counselor  hated  it. 

**  You  shall  not  have  ill  luck,  my  dear.     I  have  heard 


674 


LORNA  DOONE. 


all  about  your  marriage  to  a  very  noble  highwayman.  Ah! 
you  made  a  mistake  in  that;  you  were  worthy  of  a  Doone, 
my  child;  your  frying  was  a  blessing  meant  for  those  who 
can  appreciate." 

^^My  husband  can  appreciate,"  she  answered,  very 
proudly;  '*but  what  I  wish  to  know  is  this,  will  you  try 
to  help  me?" 

The  Counselor  answered  that  he  would  do  so,  if  her 
needs  were  moderate;  whereupon  she  opened  her  meaning 
to  him,  and  told  of  all  her  anxieties.  Considering  that 
Lorna  was  gone,  and  her  necklace  in  his  possession,  and 
that  I  (against  whom  alone  of  us  the  Doones  could  bear 
any  malice)  would  be  out  of  the  way  all  the  while,  the  old 
man  readily  undertook  that  our  house  should  not  be 
assaulted,  nor  our  property  molested,  until  my  return. 
And  to  the  promptitude  of  his  pledge  two  things  perhaps 
contributed,  namely,  that  he  knew  not  how  we  were  stripped 
of  all  defenders,  and  that  some  of  his  own  forces  were  away 
in  the  rebel  camp.  For  (as  I  learned  thereafter)  the  Doones 
being  now  in  direct  feud  with  the  present  GoTernment, 
and  sure  to  be  crushed  if  that  prevailed,  had  resolved  to 
drop  all  religious  questions,  and  cast  in  their  lot  with 
Monmouth.  And  the  turbulent  youths,  being  long  re- 
strained from  their  wonted  outlet  for  vehemence  by  the 
troopers  in  the  neighborhood,  were  only  too  glad  to  rush 
forth  upon  any  promise  of  blows  and  excitement. 

However,  Annie  knew  little  of  this,  but  took  the 
Counselor's  pledge  as  a  mark  of  especial  favor  in  her  behalf 
(which  it  may  have  been,  to  some  extent),  and  thanked 
him  for  it  most  heartily,  and  felt  that  he  had  earned  the 
necklace,  while  he,  like  an  ancient  gentleman,  disclaimed 
all  obligation,  and  sent  her  under  an  escort  safe  to  her  own 
cart  again.  But  Annie,  repassing  the  sentinels,  with  her 
youth  restored  and  blooming  with  the  flush  of  triumph, 
Avent  up  to  them  very  gravely,  and  said,  **  The  old  hag 
wishes  you  good -evening,  gentlemen;"  and  so  made  her 
best  courtesy. 

Now,  look  at  it  as  I  would,  there  was  no  excuse  left  for 
me  after  the  promise  given.  Dear  Annie  had  not  only 
cheated  the  Doones,  but  also  had  gotten  the  best  of  me,  by 
a  pledge  to  a  thing  impossible.  And  I  bitterly  said,  "  I 
am  not  like  Lorna;  a  pledge  once  given,  I  keep  it." 


JOHN  IS  WORSTED  BY  THE  WOMEN,  575 

*'  I  will  not  have  a  word  against  Lorna/'  cried  Annie; 
''  I  will  answer  for  lier  truth  as  surely  as  I  would  for  my 
own  or  yours,  John."    And  with  that  she  vanquished  me. 

But  when  my  poor  mother  heard  that  I  was  committed, 
by  word  of  honor,  to  a  wild-goose  chase  among  the  rebels 
after  that  renegade  Tom  Faggus,  she  simply  stared,  and 
would  not  believe  it.  For  lately  I  had  joked  with  her,  in 
a  little  style  of  jerks,  as  people  do  when  out  of  sorts;  and 
she,  not  understanding  this,  and  knowing  jokes  to  be  out 
of  my  power,  would  only  look,  and  sigh,  and  toss,  and  hope 
that  I  meant  nothing.  At  last,  however,  we  convinced  her 
that  I  was  in  earnest,  and  must  be  off  in  the  early  morn- 
ing, and  leave  John  Fry  with  the  hay  crop. 

Then  mother  was  ready  to  fall  upon  Annie,  as  not  con- 
tent with  disgracing  us,  by  wedding  a  man  of  new  honesty 
(if  indeed  of  any),  but  laying  traps  to  catch  her  brother, 
and  entangle  him,  perliaps,  to  his  death,  for  the  sake  of  a 
worthless  fellow;  and  "  felon" — she  was  going  to  say,  as  by' 
the  shape  of  her  lips  I  knew.  But  I  laid  my  hand  upon 
dear  mother's  lips,  because  what  must  be  must  be;  and  if 
mother  and  daughter  stayed  at  home,  better  in  love  than  in 
quarreling. 

Right  early  in  the  morning  I  was  off,  without  word  to 
any  one,  knowing  that  mother  and  sister  mine  had  cried 
each  her  good  self  to  sleep;  relenting  when  the  light  was 
out,  and  sorry  for  hard  words  and  thoughts,  and  yet  too 
much  alike  in  nature  to  understand  each  other.  Therefore 
I  took  good  Kickums,  who  (although  with  one  eye  spoiled) 
was  worth  ten  sweet-tempered  horses  to  a  man  who  knew 
how  to  manage  him;  and  being  well  charged  both  with 
bacon  and  powder,  forth  I  set  on  my  wild-goose  chase. 

For  this  I  claim  no  bravery.  I  cared  but  little  what 
came  of  it,  save  for  mother's  sake  and  Annie's,  and  the 
keeping  of  the  farm,  and  discomfiture  of  the  Snowes,  and 
lamenting  of  Lorna  at  my  death,  if  die  I  must  in  a  lone- 
some manner,  not  found  out  till  afterward,  and  bleaching 
bones  left  to  weep  over.  However,  I  had  a  little  kettle, 
and  a  pound  and  a  half  of  tobacco,  and  two  dirty  pipes 
and  a  clean  one;  also  a  bit  of  clothes  for  change,  also  a 
brisket  of  hung  venison,  and  four  loaves  of  farm-house 
bread,  and  of  the  upper  side  of  bacon  a  stone  and  a  half  it 
might  be,  not  to  mention  divers  small  things  for  cam- 


576  LORNA  DOONE. 

paigning,  which  may  come  in  handily  when  no  one  else 
has  gotten  them. 

We  went  away  in  merry  style;  my  horse  being  ready  for 
anything,  and  I  only  glad  of  a  bit  of  change,  after  months 
of  working  and  brooding,  with  no  content  to  crown  the 
work,  no  hope  to  hatch  the  brooding,  or  without  hatching 
to  reckon  it.  Who  could  tell  but  what  Lorna  might  be 
discovered,  or  at  any  rate  lizard  of,  before  the  end  of  this 
campaign;  if  campaign  it  could  be  called  of  a  man  who 
went  to  fight  nobody,  only  to  redeem  a  renegade?  And 
vexed  as  I  was  about  the  hay,  and  the  hunch-backed  ricks 
John  was  sure  to  make  (which  spoil  the  look  of  a  farm- 
yard), still  even  this  was  better  than  to  have  the  mows  and 
houses  fired,  as  I  had  nightly  expected,  and  been  worn  out 
with  the  worry  of  it. 

Yet  there  was  one  thing  rather  unfavorable  to  my  present 
enterprise,  namely,  that  I  knew  nothing  of  the  country  I 
was  bound  to,  nor  even  in  what  part  of  it  my  business 
might  be  supposed  to  lie.  For  besides  the  uncertainty 
caused  by  the  conflict  of  reports,  it  was  likely  that  King 
Monmouth's  army  would  be  moving  from  place  to  place, 
according  to  the  prospect  of  supplies  and  of  reinforce- 
ments. However,  there  would  arise  more  chance  of  get- 
ting news  as  I  went  on:  and  my  road  being  toward  the 
east  and  south,  Dulverton  would  not  lie  so  very  far  aside 
of  it,  but  what  it  might  be  worth  a  visit,  both  to  collect 
the  latest  tidings  and  to  consult  the  maps  and  plans  in 
Uncle  Reuben's  parlor.  Therefore  I  drew  the  off-hand 
rein  at  the  cross-road  on  the  hill,  and  made  for  the  town, 
expecting,  perhaps,  to  have  breakfast  with  Master  Hucka- 
back, and  Ruth  to  help  and  encourage  us.  This  little 
maiden  was  now  become  a  very  great  favorite  with  me, 
having  long  outgrown,  no  doubt,  her  childish  fancies 
and  follies,  such  as  my  mother  and  Annie  had  planted 
under  her  soft  brown  hair.  It  had  been  my  duty,  as  well 
as  my  true  interest  (for  Uncle  Ben  was  more  and  more 
testy,  as  he  went  on  gold-digging)  to  ride  thither  now  and 
again,  to  inquire  what  the  doctor  thought  of  her.  Not 
that  her  wounds  were  long  in  healing,  but  that  people  can 
scarcely  be  too  careful  and  too  inquisitive,  after  a  great 
horse-bite.  And  slie  always  let  me  look  at  the  arm,  as  I 
had  been  first  doctor;   and  she  held  it  up  in  a  graceful 


JOHN  IS  WonSTJiD  BY  THJS  WOMEN,  hll 

manner,  curving  at  the  elbow,  and  with  a  sweep  of  white 
rounglness  going  to  a  wrist  the  size  of  my  thumb  or  so,  and 
without  an}''  thimble-top  standing  forth,  such  as  even  our 
Annie  had.  But  gradually  all  I  could  see  above  the  elbow, 
where  the  bite  had  been,  was  very  clear,  transparent  skin, 
with  very  firm,  sweet  flesh  below,  and  three  little  blue 
marks  as  far  asunder  as  the  prongs  of  a  toasting-fork,  and 
no  deeper  than  where  a  twig  has  chafed  the  peel  of  a 
waxen  apple.  And  then  I  used  to  say  in  fun,  as  the 
children  do,  "  Shall  I  kiss  it  to  make  it  well,  dear?" 

Now  Ruth  looked  very  grave  indeed,  upon  hearing  of 
this  enterprise;  and  crying,  said  she  could  almost  cry  for 
the  sake  of  my  dear  mother.  Did  I  know  the  risks  and 
chances,  not  of  the  battle-field  alone,  but  of  the  havoc 
afterward — the  swearing  away  of  innocent  lives,  and  the 
hurdle,  and  the  hanging?  And  if  I  would  please  not  to 
laugh  (which  was  so  unkind  of  me),  had  I  never  heard  of 
imprisonments,  and  torturing  with  the  cruel  boot,  and 
selling  into  slavery,  where  the  sun  and  the  lash  outvied 
one  another  in  cutting  a  man  to  pieces?  I  replied  that  of 
all  these  things  I  had  heard,  and  would  take  especial  care 
to  steer  me  free  of  all  of  them.  My  duty  was  all  that  I 
wished  to  do,  and  none  could  harm  me  for  doing  that. 
And  I  begged  my  cousin  to  give  me  good-speed,  instead  of 
talking  dolefully.  Upon  this  she  changed  her  manner 
wholly,  becoming  so  lively  and  cheerful  that  I  was  con- 
vinced of  her  indifference,  and  surprised  even  more  than 
gratified. 

"Go  and  earn  your  spurs.  Cousin  Ridd/*  she  said; 
*'you  are  strong  enough  for  any  thing.  Which  side  is  to 
have  the  benefit  of  your  doughty  arm?" 

*^  Have  I  not  told  you,  Ruth,"  I  answered,  not  being 
fond  of  this  kind  of  talk,  more  suitable  for  Lizzie,  '*  that 
1  do  not  mean  to  join  either  side,  that  is  to  say,  until " 

"Until,  as  the  common  proverb  goes,  you  know  which 
W5iv  the  cat  will  jump.  Oh,  John  Ridd!  Oh,  John 
Hiddr 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,*'  said  I;  "  what  a  hurry  you  are 
ill  I     I  am  for  the  King,  of  course." 

"  But  not  enough  to  fight  for  him.  Only  enough  to  vote, 
I  suppose,  or  drink  his  health,  or  shout  for  him." 

"  I  can't  make  you  out  to-day,  Cousin  Ruth;  you  are 


578  LORNA  DOONE, 

nearly  as  bad  as  Lizzie.  You  do  not  say  any  bitter  things, 
but  you  seem  to  mean  them." 

'*  No,  cousin,  think  not  so  of  me.  It  is  far  more  likely 
that  I  say  them,  without  meaning  them." 

"  Anyhow,  it  is  not  like  you.  And  I  know  not  what  I 
can  have  done  in  any  way  to  vex  you." 

"  Bear  me,  nothing,  Cousin  Kidd;  you  never  do  anything 
to  vex  me." 

"  Then  I  hope  I  shall  do  something  now,  Ruth,  when  I 
say  good-by.  God  knows  if  we  ever  shall  meet  again, 
Ruth;  but  I  hope  we  may." 

'*To  be  sure  we  shall,"  she  answered,  in  her  brightest 
manner.  '^  Try  not  to  look  wretched,  John;  you  are  as 
happy  as  a  May-pole." 

**  And  you  as  a  rose  in  May," I  said;  "and  pretty  nearly 
as  pretty.  Give  my  love  to  Uncle  Ben;  and  I  trust  him  to 
keep  on  the  winning  side." 

'*'0f  that  you  need  have  no  misgiving.  Never  yet  has 
he  failed  of  it.  Now,  Cousin  Ridd,  why  go  you  not?  You 
hurried  me  so  at  breakfast-time." 

"  My  only  reason  for  waiting,  Ruth,  is  that  you  have  not 
kissed  me,  as  you  are  almost  bound  to  do,  for  the  last  time, 
perhaps,  of  seeing  me." 

*'  Oh,  if  that  is  all,  just  fetch  the  stool,  and  I  will  do  my 
best,  cousin." 

'^I  pray  you  be  not  so  vexatious;  you  always  used  to  do 
it  nicely  without  any  stool,  Ruth." 

"Ah!  but  you  are  grown  since  then,  and  become  a 
famous  man,  John  Ridd,  and  a  member  of  the  nobility. 
Go  your  way,  and  win  your  spurs.     I  want  no  lip-service." 

Being  at  the  end  of  my  wits,  I  did  even  as  she  ordered 
me.  At  least  I  had  no  spurs  to  win,  because  there  were 
big  ones  on  my  boots,  paid  for  in  the  Easter  bill,  and  made 
by  a  famous  saddler,  so  as  never  to  clog  with  marsh-weed, 
but  prick  as  hard  as  any  horse  in  reason  could  desire.  And 
Kickums  never  wanted  spurs,  but  always  went  tail-fore- 
most, if  anybody  offered  them  for  his  consideration. 


SLA  UGETER  IN  THE  MAR8RE8.  679 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 

SLAUGHTER  IN"  THE   MARSHES. 

We  rattled  away,  at  a  merry  pace,  out  of  the  town  of 
Dulverton;  my  horse  being  gayly  fed,  and  myself  quite  fit 
again  for  going.  Of  course  I  was  puzzled  about  Cousin 
Ruth,  for  her  behavior  was  not  at  all  such  as  I  had 
expected;  and  indeed  I  had  hoped  for  a  far  more  loving 
and  moving  farewell  than  I  got  from  her.  But  I  said  to 
myself,  '^  It  is  useless  ever  to  count  upon  what  a  woman 
will  do;  and  I  think  that  I  must  have  vexed  her  almost  as 
much  as  she  vexed  me.  And  now  to  see  what  comes  of  it." 
So  I  put  my  horse  across  the  moor-land,  and  he  threw  his 
chest  out  bravely. 

Now  if  I  tried  to  set  down  at  length  all  the  things  that 
happened  to  me  upon  this  adventure,  every  in  and  out,  and 
up  and  down,  and  to  and  fro,  that  occupied  me,  together 
with  the  things  I  saw  and  the  things  I  heard  of,  however 
much  the  wiser  people  might  applaud  my  narrative,  it  is 
likely  enough  that  idle  readers  might  exclaim,  '*  What  ails 
this  man?  Knows  he  not  that  men  of  parts,  and  of  real 
understanding,  have  told  us  all  we  care  to  hear  of  that  mis- 
erable business.  Let  him  keep  to  his  farm  and  bacon,  his 
wrestling  and  constant  feeding. 

Fearing  to  meet  with  such  rebuffs  (which  after  my  death 
would  vex  me),  I  will  try  to  set  down  only  what  is  needful 
for  my  story,  and  the  clearing  of  my  character,  and  the 
good  name  of  our  parish.  But  the  manner  in  which  I  was 
bandied  about,  by  false  information,  from  pillar  to  post,  or 
at  other  times  driven  quite  out  of  my  way  by  the  presence 
of  the  King's  soldiers,  may  be  known  by  the  names  of  the 
following  towns,  to  which  I  was  sent  in  succession:  Bath, 
Frome,  AVells,  Wincanton,  Glastonbury,  Shepton,  Bradford, 
Axbridge,  Somerton,  and  Bridgewater. 

This  last  place  I  reached  on  a  Sunday  night,  the  fourth 


550  LORNA  BOONE, 

or  fifth  of  July,  I  think— or  it  might  be  the  sixth,  for  that 
matter;  inasmuch  as  I  had  been  too  much  worried  to  get 
the  day  of  the  month  at  church.  Only  I  know  that  my 
horse  and  myself  were  glad  to  come  to  a  decent  place, 
where  meat  and  corn  could  be  had  for  money;  and  being 
quite  weary  of  wandering  about,  we  hoped  to  rest  there  a 
little. 

Of  this,  however,  we  found  no  chance,  for  the  town  was 
full  of  the  good  Duke's  soldiers;  if  men  may  be  called  so 
the  half  of  whom  had  never  been  drilled,  nor  had  fired  a 
gun.  And  it  was  rumored  among  them  that  the  '^papish 
army,"  as  they  called  it,  was  to  be  attacked  that  very  night, 
and,  with  God's  assistance,  beaten.  However,  by  this  time 
I  had  been  taught  to  pay  little  attention  to  rumors;  and 
having  sought  vainly  for  Tom  Faggus,  among  these  poor 
rustic  warriors,  I  took  to  my  hostel,  and  went  to  bed, 
being  as  weary  as  weary  can  be. 

Falling  asleep  immediately,  I  took  heed  of  nothing; 
although  the  town  was  all  alive,  and  lights  had  come 
glancing,  as  I  lay  down,  and  shouts  making  echo  all  round 
my  room.  But  all  I  did  was  to  bolt  the  door;  not  an  inch 
would  I  budge  unless  the  house,  and  even  my  bed,  were  on 
fire.  And  so  for  several  hours  I  lay,  in  the  depth  of  tlie 
deepest  slumber,  without  even  a  dream  on  its  surface,  until 
I  was  roused  and  awakened  at  last  by  a  pushing,  and  pull- 
ing, and  pinching,  and  a  plucking  of  hair  out  by  the  roots. 
And  at  length,  being  able  to  open  mine  eyes,  I  saw  the  old 
landlady,  with  a  candle,  heavily  wondering  at  me. 

'*  Can't  you  let  me  alone?"  I  grumbled;  *^  I  have  paid 
for  my  bed,  mistress,  and  I  won't  get  up  for  any  one." 

"  Would  to  God,  young  man,"  she  answered,  shaking 
me  as  hard  as  ever,  '^that  the  popish  soldiers  may  sleep 
this  night  only  half  as  strong  as  thou  dost!  Fie  on  thee, 
fie  on  thee!  Get  up,  and  go  fight;  we  can  hear  the  battle 
already;  and  a  man  of  thy  size  mought  stop  a  cannon." 

•'  I  would  rather  stop  abed,"  said  I;  '*  what  have  I  to  do 
with  fighting?     I  am  for  King  James,  if  any." 

"  Then  thou  mayest  even  stop  abed,"  tlie  old  woman 
muttered,  sulkily.  ^' A  would  never  have  labored  half  an 
hour  to  awake  a  Papisher.  But  hearken  you  one  thing, 
young  man;  Zummerzett  thou  art,  by  tliy  brogue;  or  at 
least  by  thy  understanding  of  it;  no  Zummerzett  maid  will 


SLA  UOHTER  IN  THE  MARSHES.  581 

look  at  thee,  in  spite  of  thy  size  and  stature,  unless  thou 
strikest  a  blow  this  night." 

"I  lack  no  Zummerzett  maid,  mistress;  I  have  a  fairer 
than  your  brown  things,  and  for  her  alone  would  I  strike 
a  blow." 

At  this  the  old  woman  gave  me  up,  as  being  beyond  cor- 
rection: and  it  vexed  me  a  little  that  my  great  fame  had 
not  reached  so  far  as  Bridge  water,  when  I  thought  that  it 
went  to  Bristowe.  But  those  people  in  East  Somerset 
knew  nothing  about  wrestling.  Devon  is  the  headquarters 
of  the  art,  and  Devon  is  the  county  of  my  chief  love.  How- 
beit,  my  vanity  was  moved  by  this  slur  upon  it,  for  I  had 
told  her  my  name  was  '^  John  Ridd,"  when  I  had  a  gallon 
of  ale  with  her  ere  ever  I  came  upstairs;  and  she  had  nod- 
ded in  such  a  manner  that  I  thought  she  knew  both  name 
and  fame;  and  here  was  I,  not  only  shaken,  pinched,  and 
with  many  hairs  pulled  out,  in  my  first  good  sleep  for  a 
week,  but  also  abused,  and  taken  amiss,  and  (which  vexed 
me  most  of  all)  unknown. 

Now,  there  is  nothing  like  vanity  to  keep  a  man  awake 
at  night,  however  he  be  weary;  and  most  of  all,  when 
he  believes  that  he  is  doing  something  great — this  time,  if 
never  done  before — yet  other  people  will  not  see,  except 
what  they  may  laugh  at;  and  so  be  far  above  him,  and 
sleep  themselves  the  happier.  Therefore  their  sleep  robs 
his  own;  for  all  things  play  so,  in  and  out  (with  the  godly 
and  ungodly  ever  moving  in  a  balance,  as  they  have  done 
in  my  time,  almost  every  year  or  two),  all  things  have  such 
nice  reply  of  produce  to  the  call  for  it,  and  such  a  spread 
across  the  world,  giving  here  and  taking  there,  yet  on  the 
whole  pretty  even,  that  haply  sleep  itself  has  but  a  certain 
stock,  and  keeps  in  hand,  and  sells  to  flattered  (which  can 
pay)  that  which  flattened  vanity  cannot  pay,  and  will  not 
sue  for. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  I  was  by  this  time  wide  awake,  though 
much  aggrieved  at  •  feeling  so,  and  through  the  open 
window  heard  the  distant  roll  of  musketry,  and  the  beat- 
ing of  drums,  with  a  quick  rub-a-dub,  and  the  "  come  round 
the  corner  "  of  trumpet-call.  And  perhaps  Tom  Faggus 
might  be  there,  and  shot  at  any  moment,  and  my  dear 
Annie  left  a  poor  widow,  and  my  godson  Jack  an  orphan^ 
without  a  tooth  to  help  him. 


582  LORNA  BOONE, 

Therefore  I  reviled  myself  for  all  my  heavy  laziness;  and 
partly  through  good  honest  will,  and  partly  through  the 
stings  of  pride,  and  yet  a  little,  perhaps,  by  virtue  of  a 
young  man's  love  of  riot,  up  I  arose  and  dressed  myself, 
and  woke  Kickums  (who  was  snoring),  and  set  out  to  see 
the  worst  of  it.  The  sleepy  hostler  scratched  his  poll,  and 
could  not  tell  me  which  way  to  take;  what  odds  to  him 
who  was  King  or  Pope,  so  long  as  he  paid  his  way,  and  got  a 
bit  of  bacon  on  Sunday?  And  would  I  please  to  remem- 
ber that  I  had  roused  him  up  at  night,  and  the  quality 
always  made  a  point  of  paying  four  times  over  for  a  man  s 
loss  of  his  beauty-sleep.  I  replied  that  his  loss  of  beauty- 
sleep  was  rather  improving  to  a  man  of  so  high  com- 
plexion; and  that  I,  being  none  of  the  quality,  must  pay 
half-quality  prices;  and  so  I  gave  him  double  fee,  as  be- 
came a  good  farmer;  and  he  was  glad  to  be  quit  of 
Kickums,  as  I  saw  by  the  turn  of  his  eye,  while  going  out 
at  the  archway. 

All  this  was  done  by  lantern  light,  although  the  moon 
was  high  and  bold;  and  in  the  northern  heaven  flags  and 
ribbons  of  a  jostling  pattern,  such  as  we  often  have  in 
autumn,  but  in  July  verj  rarely.  Of  these  Master  Dryden 
had  spoken  somewhere,  in  his  courtly  manner;  but  of  him 
I  think  so  little — because  by  fashion  preferred  to  Shakes- 
peare— that  I  cannot  remember  the  passage;  neither  is  it  a 
credit  to  him. 

Therefore  I  was  guided  mainly  by  the  sound  of  guns  and 
trumpets,  in  riding  out  of  the  narrow  ways,  and  into  the 
open  marshes.  And  thus  I  might  have  found  my  road,  in 
spite  of  all  the  spread  of  water  and  the  glaze  of  moonshine; 
but  that,  as  I  followed  sound  (far  from  hedge  or  cause- 
way), fog  (like  a  chestnut-tree  in  blossom  touched  with 
moonlight)  met  me.  Now  fog  is  a  thing  that  I  under- 
derstand,  and  can  do  with  well  enough,  where  I  know  the 
country;  but  here  I  had  never  been  before.  It  was  noth- 
ing to  our  Exmoor  fogs;  not  to  be  compared  with  them; 
and  all  the  time  one  could  see  the  moon,  which  we  cannot 
do  in  our  fogs,  nor  even  the  sun,  for  a  week  together.  Yet 
the  gleam  of  water  always  makes  a  fog  more  difficult:  like 
a  curtain  on  a  mirror,  none  can  tell  the  boundaries. 

And  here  we  had  broad  water-patches,  in  and  out,  inlaid 
on  land,  like  mother-of-pearl  in  brown  shittim-wood.     To 


SLA  UOHTER  IN  THE  MARSHES.  683 

a  wild  duck  bcrn  and  bred  there,  it  would  almost  be  a 
puzzle  to  find  her  own  nest  among  us;  what  chance,  then, 
had  I  and  Kickums,  both  unused  to  marsh  and  mere? 
Each  time  when  we  thought  that  we  must  be  right  now  at 
last,  by  track  or  passage,  and  approaching  the  conflict, 
with  the  sounds  of  it  waxing  nearer,  suddenly  a  break  of 
water  would  be  laid  before  us,  with  the  moon  looking 
mildly  over  it,  and  the  northern  lights  behind  us,  dancing 
down  the  lines  of  fog. 

It  was  an  awful  thing,  I  say  (and  to  this  day  I  remember 
it),  to  hear  the  sounds  of  raging  fight,  and  the  yells  of  rav- 
ing slayers,  and  the  howls  of  poor  men  stricken  hard,  and 
shattered  from  wrath  to  wailing;  then  suddenly  the  dead 
low  hush,  as  of  a  soul  departing,  and  spirits  kneeling  over 
it.  Through  the  vapor  of  the  earth,  and  white  breath  of 
the  water,  and  beneath  the  pale  round  moon  (bowing  as  the 
drift  went  by),  all  this  rush  and  pause  of  fear  passed  or 
lingered  on  my  path. 

At  last,  when  I  almost  despaired  of  escaping  from  this 
tangle  of  spongy  banks,  and  of  hazy  creeks  and  reed-fringe, 
my  horse  heard  the  neigh  of  a  fellow-horse,  and  was  only 
too  glad  to  answer  it;  upon  which  the  other,  having  lost 
his  rider,  came  up  and  pricked  his  ears  at  us,  and  gazed 
through  the  fog  very  steadfastly.  Therefore  I  encouraged 
him  with  a  soft  and  genial  whistle,  and  Kickums  did  his 
best  to  tempt  him  with  a  snort  of  inquiry.  However, 
nothing  would  suit  that  nag,  except  to  enjoy  his  new  free- 
dom; and  he  capered  away  with  his  tail  set  on  high,  and 
the  stirrup-irons  clashing  under  him.  Therefore,  as  he 
might  know  the  way,  and  appeared  to  have  been  in  the 
battle,  we  followed  him  very  carefully;  and  he  led  us  to  a 
little  hamlet,  called  (as  I  found  afterward)  West  Zuyland, 
or  Zealand,  so  named  perhaps  from  its  situation  amid  this 
inland  sea. 

Here  the  King's  troops  had  been  quite  lately,  and  their 
fires  were  still  burning;  but  the  men  themselves  had  been 
summoned  away  by  the  night  attack  of  the  rebels.  Hence  I 
procured  for  my  guide  a  young  man  who  knew  the  district 
thoroughly,  and  who  led  me  by  many  intricate  ways  to  the 
rear  of  the  rebel  army.  We  came  upon  abroad  open  moor, 
striped  with  sullen  water-courses,  shagged  with  sedge  and 
yellow  iris,  and  in  the  drier  part  with  bilberries.     For  by 


5g4  LORNA  nOONK 

this  time  it  was  four  o'clock,  and  the  summer  sun,  arising 
wanly,  showed  us  all  the  ghastly  scene. 

Would  that  I  had  never  been  there!  Often  in  the  lonely 
hours,  even  now  it  haunts  me;  would,  far  more,  that  the 
piteous  thing  had  never  been  done  in  England!  Flying 
men,  flung  back  from  dreams  of  victory  and  honor,  only 
glad  to  have  the  luck  of  life  and  limbs  to  fly  with,  mud- 
bedraggled,  foul  with  slime,  reeking  both  with  sweat  and 
blood,  which  they  could  not  stop  to  wipe,  cursing,  with 
their  pumped-out  lungs,  every  stick  that  hindered  them,  or 
gory  puddle  that  slipped  the  step,  scarcely  able  to  leap  over 
the  corses  that  had  dragged  to  die.  And  to  see  how  the 
corses  lay;  some,  as  fair  as  death  in  sleep,  with  the  smile 
of  placid  valor  and  of  noble  manhood  hovering  yet  on  the 
silent  lips.  These  had  bloodless  hands  put  upward,  white 
as  wax,  and  firm  as  death,  clasped  (as  on  a  monument)  in 
prayer  for  dear  ones  left  behind,  or  in  high  thanksgiving. 
And  of  these  men  there  was  nothing  in  their  broad  blue 
eyes  to  fear.  But  others  were  of  different  sort;  simple 
fellows  unused  to  pain,  accustomed  to  the  bill-hook,  per- 
haps, or  rasp  of  the  knuckles  in  a  quick-set  hedge,  or 
making  some  todo  at  breakfast  over  a  thumb  cut  in  sharp- 
ening a  scythe,  and  expecting  their  wives  to  make  more 
todo.  Yet  here  lay  these  poor  chaps,  dead;  dead,  after  a 
deal  of  pain,  with  little  mind  to  bear  it,  and  a  soul  they 
had  never  thought  of,  gone,  their  God  alone  knows  whither; 
but  to  mercy  we  may  trust.  Upon  these  things  I  can  not 
dwell,  and  none  I  trow  would  ask  me;  only  if  a  plain  man 
saw  what  I  saw  that  morning,  he  (if  God  had  blessed  him 
with  the  heart  that  is  in  most  of  us)  must  have  sickened 
of  all  desire  to  be  great  among  mankind. 

Seeing  me  riding  to  the  front  (where  the  work  of  death 
went  on  among  the  men  of  true  English  pluck;  which, 
when  moved,  no  further  moves),  the  fugitives  called  out  to 
me  in  half  a  dozen  dialects  to  make  no  utter  fool  of  myself, 
for  the  great  guns  were  come,  and  the  fight  was  over;  all 
the  rest  was  slaughter. 

*^  Arl  oop  wi  Moonmo,"  shouted  one  big  fellow,  a  miner 
of  the  Mendip  hills,  whose  weapon  was  a  pickax:  '^na 
oose  to  vaight  na  moor.  Wend  thee  hame,  yoong  mon, 
agin." 

Upon  this  I  stopped  my  horse,  desiring  not  to  be  shot 


ISLA  UGHTER  IN  THE  MARSHES.  5S5 

for  nothing;  and  eager  to  aid  some  poor  sick  people  who 
tried  to  lift  their  arms  to  me.  And  this  I  did  to  the  best 
of  my  power,  though  void  of  skill  in  the  business,  and 
more  inclined  to  weep  with  them  than  to  check  their  weep- 
ing. While  I  was  giving  a  drop  of  cordial  from  my  flask 
to  one  poor  fellow,  who  sat  up,  while  his  life  was  ebbing, 
and  with  slow  insistence  urged  me,  when  his  broken  voice 
would  come,  to  tell  his  wife  (whose  name  I  knew  not) 
something  about  an  apple  tree,  and  a  golden  guinea  stored 
in  it,  to  divide  among  six  children — in  the  midst  of  this  I 
felt  warm  lips  laid  against  my  cheek  quite  softly,  and  then 
a  little  push;  and  "behold,  it  was  a  horse  leaning  over  me! 
I  arose  in  haste,  and  there  stood  Winnie  looking  at  me 
with  beseeching  eyes,  enough  to  melt  a  heart  of  stone. 
Then  seeing  my  attention  fixed,  she  turned  her  head,  and 
glanced  back  sadly  toward  the  place  of  battle,  and  gave 
a  little  wistful  neigh,  and  then  looked  at  me  f  ~.A  in  the 
face  again,  as  much  as  to  say,  *'Do  you  understand?" 
while  she  scraped  with  one  hoof  impatiently.  If  ever  a 
horse  tried  hard  to  speak,  it  was  Winnie,  at  that  moment. 
I  went  to  her  side  and  patted  her;  but  that  was  not  what 
she  wanted.  Then  I  offered  to  leap  into  the  empty  saddle; 
but  neither  did  that  seem  good  to  her:  for  she  ran  away 
toward  the  part  of  the  field  at  which  she  had  been  glancing 
back,  and  then  turned  round  and  shook  her  mane,  entreat- 
ing me  to  follow  her. 

Upon  this  I  learned  from  the  dying  man  where  to  find 
his  apple  tree,  and  promised  to  add  another  guinea  to  the 
one  in  store  for  his  children;  and  so,  commending  him  to 
God,  I  mounted  my  own  horse  again,  and,  to  Winnie's 
great  delight,  professed  myself  at  her  service.  With  her 
ringing  silvery  neigh,  such  as  no  other  horse  of  all  I  ever 
knew  could  equal,  she  at  once  proclaimed  her  triumph, 
and  told  her  master  (or  meant  to  tell,  if  death  should  have 
closed  his  ears)  that  she  was  coming  to  his  aid,  and  bring- 
ing one  who  might  be  trusted,  of  the  higher  race  that  kill. 

A  cannon-bullet  (fired  low,  and  plowing  the  marsh 
slowly)  met  poor  Winnie  front  to  front;  and  she,  being  as 
quick  as  thought,  lowered  her  nose  to  sniff  at  it.  It  might 
be  a  message  from  her  master,  for  it  made  a  mournful 
noise.  But  luckily  for  Winnie's  life,  a  rise  of  wet  ground 
took  the  ball  eveu  uuder  her  very  nose,  and  there  it  cut  a 


586  LORNA  BOONE. 

splashy  groove,  missing  her  off  hind  foot  by  an  inch,  and 
scattering  black  mud  over  her.  It  frightened  me  much 
more  than  it  did  Winnie;  of  that  I  am  quite  certain: 
because  though  I  am  firm  enough  when  it  comes  to  a  real 
tussle,  and  the  heart  of  a  fellow  warms  up  and  tells  him 
that  he  must  go  through  with  it,  yet  I  never  did  approve 
of  making  a  cold  pie  of  death. 

Therefore,  with  those  reckless  cannons,  brazen-mouthed, 
and  bellowing,  two  furlongs  off,  or  it  might  be  more  (and 
the  more  the  merrier),  I  would  have  given  that  year's  hay 
crop  for  a  bit  of  a  hill,  or  a  thicket  of  oaks,  or  almost  even 
a  badger's  earth.  People  will  call  me  a  coward  for  this 
(especially  when  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  life  was  not 
worth  having,  without  any  sign  of  Lorna);  nevertheless,  I 
cannot  help  it:  those  were  my  feelings;  and  I  set  them 
down  because  they  made  a  mark  on  me.  At  Glen  Doone 
I  had  fought  even  against  cannon,  with  some  spirit  and 
fury;  but  now  I  saw  nothing  to  fight  about;  but  rather  in 
every  poor  doubled  corpse  a  good  reason  for  not  fighting. 
So,  in  cold  blood  riding  on,  and  yet  ashamed  that  a  man 
should  shrink  where  a  horse  went  bravely,  I  cast  a  bitter 
blame  upon  the  reckless  ways  of  Winnie. 

Nearly  all  were  scattered  now.  Of  the  noble  country- 
man (armed  with  scythe  or  pickax,  blacksmith's  hammer 
or  fold-pitcher),  who  had  stood  their  ground  for  hours 
against  blazing  musketry  (from  men  whom  they  could  not 
get  at  by  reason  of  the  water-dike),  and  then  against  the 
deadly  cannon,  dragged  by  the  Bishop's  horses  to  slaugh- 
ter his  own  sheep;  of  these  sturdy  Englishmen,  noble  in 
their  want  of  sense,  scarce  one  out  of  four  remained  for 
the  cowards  to  shoot  down.  **  Cross  the  rhaine,"  they 
shouted  out,  **  cross  the  rhaine,  and  coom  within  rache;" 
but  the  other  mongrel  Britons,  with  a  mongrel  at  their 
head,  found  it  pleasanter  to  shoot  men  who  could  not  shoot 
in  answer,  than  to  meet  the  chance  of  mischief  from 
strong  arms  and  stronger  hearts. 

The  last  scene  of  this  piteous  play  was  acting  just  as  1 
rode  up.  Broad  daylight,  and  upstanding  sun,  winnowing 
fog  from  the  eastern  hills,  and  spreading  the  moors  with 
freshness;  all  along  the  dikes  they  shone,  glistened  on  the 
willow  trunks,  and  touched  the  banks  with  a  hoary  gray. 
But,  alas!  those  banks  were  touched  more  deeply  with  a 


SLA  troffTER  m  TBK  MARSBE8.  587 

gory  red,  and  strewn  with  fallen  trunks  more  woeful  than 
the  wreck  of  trees;  while  howling,  cursing,  yelling,  and  the 
loathsome  reek  of  carnage,  drowned  the  scent  of  new-mown 
hay,  and  the  carol  of  the  lark. 

Then  the  cavalry  of  the  King,  with  their  horses  at  full 
speed,  dashed  from  either  side  upon  the  helpless  mob  of 
countrymen.  A  few  pikes  feebly  leveled  met  them; 
but  they  shot  the  pikemen,  drew  swords,  and  helter- 
skelter  leaped  into  the  shattered  and  scattering  mass. 
Right  and  left  they  hacked  and  hewed.  I  could  hear 
the  snapping  of  scythes  beneath  them,  and  see  the 
flash  of  their  sweeping  swords.  How  it  must  end  was 
plain  enough,  even  to  one  like  myself,  who  had  never 
beheld  such  a  battle  before.  But  Winnie  led  me  away  to 
the  left;  and  as  I  could  not  help  the  people,  neither  stop 
the  slaughter,  but  found  the  cannon-bullet  coming  very 
rudely  nigh  me,  I  was  only  too  glad  to  follow  her. 


5g8  LORNA  jbOONM, 


CHAPTER    LXV. 

FALLING  AMONG   LAMBS. 

That  faithful  creature,  whom  I  began  to  admire  as  if 
she  were  my  own  (which  is  no  little  thing  for  a  man  to  say 
of  another  man's  norse),  stopped  in  front  of  a  low  black 
shed  such  as  we  call  a  "linhay."  And  here  she  uttered  a 
little  greeting  in  a  subdued  and  softened  voice,  hoping  to 
obtain  an  answer  such  as  her  master  was  wont  to  give  in  a 
cheery  manner.  Receiving  no  reply  she  entered,  and  I 
(who  could  scarcely  keep  up  with  her,  poor  Kickums  being 
weary)  leaped  from  his  back,  and  followed.  There  I  found 
her  sniffing  gently,  but  with  great  emotion,  at  the  body  of 
Tom  Faggus.  A  corpse  poor  Tom  appeared  to  be,  if  ever 
there  was  one  in  this  world;  and  I  turned  away,  and  felt 
unable  to  keep  altogether  from  weeping.  But  the  mare 
either  could  not  understand,  or  else  would  not  believe  it. 
She  reached  her  long  neck  forth,  and  felt  him  with  her 
under  lip,  passing  it  over  his  skin  as  softly  as  a  mother 
would  do  to  an  infant;  and  then  she  looked  up  at  me 
again,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  he  is  all  right." 

Upon  this  I  took  courage,  and  handled  poor  Tom,  which 
being  young  I  had  feared  at  first  to  do.  He  groaned  very 
feebly  as  I  raised  him  up;  and  there  was  the  wound,  a  great 
savage  one  (whether  from  pike-thrust  or  musket-ball), 
gaping  and  welling  in  his  right  side,  from  which  a  piece 
seemed  to  be  torn  away.  I  bound  it  up  with  some  of  my 
linen,  so  far  as  I  knew  how,  just  to  stanch  the  flow  of 
blood  until  we  could  get  a  doctor.  Then  I  gave  him  a  little 
weak  brandy  and  water,  which  he  drank  with  the  greatest 
eagerness,  and  made  sign  to  me  for  more  of  it.  But  not 
knowing  how  far  it  was  right  to  give  cordial  under 
the  circumstances,  I  handed  him  unmixed  water  that  time, 
thinking  that  he  was  too  far  gone  to  perceive  the  differ- 


FALLING  AMONG  LAMBS.  589 

ence.  But  herein  I  wronged  Tom  Faggns,  for  he  shook 
his  head  and  frowned  at  me.  Even  at  the  door  of  death 
he  would  not  drink  what  Adam  drank,  by  whom  came 
death  into  the  world.  So  I  gave  him  a  little  more  eait  de 
vie,  and  he  took  it  most  submissively. 

After  that  he  seemed  better,  and  a  little  color  came  into 
his  cheeks;  and  he  looked  at  Winnie  and  knew  her,  and 
would  have  her  nose  in  his  clammy  hand,  though  I  thought 
it  not  good  for  either  of  them.  With  the  stay  of  my  arm 
he  sat  upright,  and  faintly  looked  about  him,  as  if  at  the 
end  of  a  violent  dream,  too  much  for  his  power  of  mind. 
Then  he  managed  to  whisper,  '^Is  Winnie  hurt?" 

*^  As  sound  as  a  roach,"  I  answered.  *^  Then  so  am  I," 
said  he;  *'put  me  upon  her  back,  John;  she  and  I  die 
together." 

Surprised  as  I  was  at  this  fatalism  (for  so  it  appeared  to 
me),  of  which  he  had  often  shown  symptoms  before  (but  I 
took  them  for  mere  levity),  now  I  knew  not  what  to  do; 
for  it  seemed  to  me  a  murderous  thing  to  set  such  a  man 
on  horseback,  where  he  must  surely  bleed  to  death,  even  if 
he  could  keep  the  saddle.  But  he  told  me  with  many 
breaks  and  pauses,  that  unless  I  obeyed  his  orders,  he 
would  tear  off  all  my  bandages,  and  accept  no  further  aid 
from  me. 

While  I  was  yet  hesitating,  a  storm  of  horse  at  full  gallop 
went  by,  tearing,  swearing,  iDearing  away  all  the  country 
before  them.  Only  a  little  pollard  hedge  kept  us  from  their 
bloodshot  eyes.  "  Now  is  the  time,"  said  my  cousin  Tom,  so 
far  as  I  could  make  out  his  words;  '*on  their  heels  I  am 
safe,  John,  if  I  only  have  Winnie  under  me.  Winnie  and 
I  die  together." 

Seeing  this  strong  bent  of  his  mind,  stronger  than  any  pains 
of  death,  I  even  did  what  his  feeble  eyes  sometimes  implored, 
and  sometimes  commanded.  With  a  strong  sash  from  his 
own  hot  neck,  bound  and  twisted  tight  as  wax  around  his 
damaged  waist,  I  set  him  upon  Winnie's  back,  and  placed 
his  trembling  feet  in  stirrups,  with  a  band  from  one  to  the 
other  under  the  good  mare's  body,  so  that  no  swerve  could 
throw  him  out;  and  then  I  said:  "Lean  forward,  Tom;  it 
will  stop  your  hurt  from  bleeding."  He  leaned  almost  on 
the  neck  of  the  mare,  which,  as  1  knew,  must  close  the 
wound,  and  the  light  of  his  eyes  was  quite  different,  and 


590  LORITA  DOONB, 

the  pain  of  his  forehead  unstrung  itself,  as  he  felt  the 
undulous  readiness  of  her  volatile  paces  under  him. 

"  God  bless  you,  John,  I  am  safe,''  he  whispered,  fear- 
ing to  open  his  lungs  much;  *'who  can  come  near  my 
Winnie  mare?  A  mile  of  her  gallop  is  ten  years  of  life. 
Look  out  for  yourself,  John  Kidd/'  He  sucked  his  lips, 
and  the  mare  went  off  as  easy  and  swift  as  a  swallow. 

"Well,''  thought  I,  as  I  looked  at  Kickums,  ignobly 
cropping  a  piece  of  grass,  '*  I  have  done  a  very  good  thing, 
no  doubt,  and  ought  to  be  thankful  to  God  for  the  chance. 
But  as  for  getting  away  unharmed,  with  all  these  scoun- 
drels about  me,  and  only  a  foundered  horse  to  trust  in — 
good  and  spiteful  as  he  is — upon  the  whole,  I  begin  to 
think  that  I  have  made  a  fool  of  myself,  according  to  my 
habit.  No  wonder  Tom  said,  *^  Look  out  for  yourself!"  I 
shall  look  out  from  a  prison  window,  or  perhaps  even  out 
of  a  halter.     And  then,  what  will  Lorna  think  of  me?" 

Being  in  this  wistful  mood,  I  resolved  to  abide  a  while 
even  where  fate  had  thrown  me;  for  my  horse  required 
good  rest,  no  doubt,  and  was  taking  it  even  while  he  cropped, 
with  his  hind  legs  far  away  stretched  out,  and  his  fore  legs 
gathered  under  him,  and  his  muzzle  on  the  mole-hills;  so 
that  he  had  five  supportings  from  his  mother  earth.  More- 
over, the  linhay  itself  was  full  of  very  ancient  cow-dung, 
than  which  there  is  no  balmier  and  more  maiden  soporific. 
Hence  I  resolved,  upon  the  whole,  though  grieving  about 
breakfast,  to  light  a  pipe,  and  go  to  sleep,  or  at  least 
until  the  hot  sun  should  arouse  the  flies. 

I  may  have  slept  three  hours,  or  four,  or  it  might  be 
even  five — for  I  never  counted  time  while  sleeping — when 
a  shaking,  more  rude  that  the  old  landlady's,  brought  me 
back  to  the  world  again.  I  looked  up  with  a  mighty  yawn, 
and  saw  twenty  or  so  of  foot-soldiers. 

"  This  linhay  is  not  yours,"  I  said,  when  they  had  quite 
aroused  me,  with  tongue,  and  hand,  and  even  sword -prick; 
"  what  business  have  you  here,  good  fellows?" 

"Business  bad  for  you,"  said  one,  "and  will  lead  you 
to  the  gallows." 

"Do  you  wish  to  know  the  way  out  again?"  I  asked, 
very  quietly,  as  being  no  braggadocia. 

"We  will  show  thee  the  way  out,"  said  one;  "and  the 
way  out  of  the  world,"  said  another;  "but  not  the  way  to 


FALLWG  AMONG  LAMIBS,  591 

heaven/'  said  one  chap,  most  unlikely  to  know  it;  and 
thereupon  they  all  fell  wagging,  like  a  bed  of  clover-leaves 
in  the  morning,  at  their  own  choice  humor. 

"Will  you  pile  your  arms  outside,"  I  said,  "and  try  a 
bit  of  fair  play  with  me?'" 

For  I  disliked  these  men  sincerely,  and  was  fain  "to  teach 
them  a  lesson;  they  were  so  unchristian  in  appearance, 
having  faces  of  a  coffee  color,  and  dirty  beards  half  over 
them.  Moreover,  their  dress  was  outrageous,  and  their 
address  still  worse.  However,  I  had  wiser  let  them  alone, 
as  will  appear  afterward.  These  savage-looking  fellows 
laughed  at  the  idea  of  my  having  any  chance  against  some 
twenty  of  them,  but  I  knew  that  the  place  was  in  my 
favor;  for  my  part  of  it  had  been  fenced  off  (for  weaning  a 
calf  most  likely),  so  that  only  two  could  come  at  me  at 
once;  and  I  must  be  very  much  out  of  training,  if  I  could 
not  manage  two  of  them.  Therefore  I  laid  aside  my 
carbine  and  the  two  horse-pistols;  and  they,  with  many 
coarse  jokes  at  me,^  went  a  little  way  outside,  and  set  their 
weapons  against  th'e  wall,  and  turned  up  their  coat-sleeves 
jauntily,  and  then  began  to  hesitate. 

"  Go  you  first.  Bob,"  I  heard  them  say;  "  you  are  the 
biggest  man  of  us;  and  Dick  the  wrestler  along  of  you. 
Us  will  back  you  up,  boy." 

"I'll  warrant  Fit  draw  the  badger,"  said  Bob,  "and  not 
a  tooth  will  I  leave  him.  But  mind,  for  the  honor  of 
Kirke's  lambs,  every  man  stands  me  a  glass  of  gin."  Then 
he  and  another  man  made  a  rush,  and  the  others  came 
double-quick-march  on  their  heels.  But  as  Bob 'ran  at  me 
most  stupidly,  not  even  knowing  how  to  place  his  hands,  I 
caught  him  with  my  knuckles  at  the  back  of  his  neck,  and 
with  all  the  sway  of  my  right  arm  sent  him  over  the  heads 
of  his  comrades.  Meanwhile  Dick  the  wrestler  had  grap- 
pled me,  exj^ecting  to  show  off  his  art,  of  which  indeed  he 
had  some  small  knowledge;  but  being  quite  of  the  light 
weights,  in  a  second  he  was  flying  after  his  companion 
Bob. 

Kow  these  two  men  were  hurt  so  badly,  the  light  one 
having  knocked  his  head  against  the  lintel  of  the  outer 
gate,  that  the  rest  had  no  desire  to  encounter  the  like  mis- 
fortune. So  they  hung  back  whispering;  and  before  they 
had  made  up  their  minds,  I  rushed  into  the  midst  of  them. 


59^  LORNA  DOONE, 

The  suddenness  and  the  weight  of  my  onset  took  them 
wholly  by  surprise;  and  for  once  in  their  lives,  perhaps, 
Kirke's  lambs  were  worthy  of  their  name.  Like  a  flock  of 
sheep  at  a  dog's  attack,  they  fell  away,  hustling  one  an- 
other, and  my  only  difficulty  was  not  to  tumble  over  them. 

I  had  taken  my  carbine  out  with  me,  having  a  fondness  for 
it,  but  the  two  horse-pistols  I  left  behind;  and  therefore 
felt  good  title  to  take  two  from  the  magazine  of  the  lambs. 
And  with  these  and  my  carbine  I  leaped  upon  Kickums, 
who  was  now  quite  glad  of  a  gallop  again,  and  I  bade 
adieu  to  that  mongrel  lot;  yet  they  had  the  meanness  to 
shoot  at  me.  Thanking  God  for  my  deliverance  (inas- 
much as  those  men  would  have  strung  me  up  from  a  pol- 
lard ash  without  trial,  as  I  heard  them  tell  one  another, 
and  saw  the  tree  they  had  settled  upon),  I  ventured  to  go 
rather  fast  on  my  way,  with  doubt  and  uneasiness  urging 
me.  And  now  my  way  was  home  again.  Nobody  could 
say  but  what  I  had  done  my  duty,  and  rescued  Tom  (if  he 
could  be  rescued)  from  the  mischief  into  which  his  own 
perverseness  and  love  of  change  (rather  than  deep  religious 
convictions,  to  which  our  Annie  ascribed  his  outbreak)  had 
led,  or  seemed  likely  to  lead  him.  And  how  proud  would 
my  mother  be;  and — ah!  well,  there  was  nobody  else  to  be 
proud  of  me  now. 

But  while  thinking  these  things,  and  desiring  my  break- 
fast beyond  any  power  of  describing,  and  even  beyond  my 
remembrance,  I  fell  into  another  fold  of  lambs,  from  which 
there  was  no  exit.  These,  like  true  crusaders,  met  me, 
swaggering  very  heartily,  and  with  their  barrels  of  cider 
set,  like  so  many  cannons,  across  the  road,  over  against  a 
small  hostel. 

"  We  have  won  the  victory,  my  lord  King,  and  we  mean 
to  enjoy  it.  Down  from  thy  horse,  and  have  a  stoup  of 
cider,  thou  big  rebel,'' 

"  No  rebel  am  I.  My  name  is  John  Ridd.  I  belong  to 
the  side  of  the  King,  and  I  want  some  breakfast." 

These  fellows  were  truly  hospitable;  that  much,  I  will 
say  for  them.  Being  accustomed  to  Arab  ways,  they  could 
toss  a  grill,  or  fritter,  or  the  inner  meaning  of  an  Qgg,  into 
any  form  they  pleased,  comely  and  very  good  to  eat;  and  it 
led  me  to  think  of  Annie.  So  I  made  the  rarest  breakfast 
any  man  might  hope  for,  after  all  his  troubles;  and  getting 


jP'ALLim  AMONG  LAMBS.  693 

on  with  these  brown  fellows  better  than  could  be  expected, 
I  craved  permission  to  light  a  pipe,  if  not  disagreeable. 
Hearing  this,  they  roared  at  me  with  a  superior  laughter, 
and  asked  me  whether  or  not  I  knew  the  tobacco-leaf  from 
the  chick-weed;  and  when  I  was  forced  to  answer  no,  not 
having  gone  into  the  subject,  but  being  content  with  any 
thing  brown,  they  clapped  me  on  the  back  and  swore  they 
had  never  seen  any  one  like  me.  Upon  the  whole,  this 
pleased  me  much,  for  I  do  not  wish  to  be  taken  always  as 
of  the  common  pattern;  and  so  we  smoked  admirable 
tobacco — for  they  would  not  have  any  of  mine,  though  very 
courteous  concerning  it — and  I  was  beginning  to  under- 
stand a  little  of  what  they  told  me,  when  up  came  those 
confounded  lambs  who  had  shown  more  tail  than  head  to 
me  in  the  linhay,  as  I  mentioned. 

Now  these  men  upset  everything.  Having  been  among 
wrestlers  so  much  as  my  duty  compelled  me  to  be,  and 
having  learned  the  necessity  of  the  rest  which  follows  the 
conflict,  and  the  right  of  discussion  which  all  people  have 
who  pay  their  sixpence  to  enter;  and  how  they  obtrude  this 
right,  and  their  wisdom,  upon  the  man  who  has  labored, 
until  he  forgets  all  the  work  he  did,  and  begins  to  think 
that  they  did  it;  having  some  knowledge  of  this  sort  of 
thing,  and  the  flux  of  minds  swimming  in  liquor,  I  fore- 
saw a  brawl  as  plainly  as  if  it  were  Bear  Street  in  Barn- 
staple. 

And  a' brawl  there  was,  without  any  error,  except  of  the 
men  who  hit  their  friends,  and  those  who  defended  their 
enemies.  My  partners  in  breakfast  and  beer-can  swore  that 
I  was  no  prisoner,  but  the  best  and  most  loyal  subject,  and 
the  finest-hearted  fellow  they  had  ever  the  luck  to  meet 
with.  Whereas  the  men  from  the  linhay  swore  that  I  was 
a  rebel  miscreant;  and  have  me  they  would,  with  a  rope's- 
end  ready,  in  spite  of  every  [violent  language]  who  had 
got  drunk  at  my  expense,  and  been  misled  by  my  [strong 
word]  lies. 

While  this  fight  was  going  on  (and  its  mere  occurrence 
shows,  perhaps,  that  my  conversation  in  those  days  was 
not  entirely  despicable — else  why  should  my  new  friends 
fight  for  me,  when  I  had  paid  for  the  ale,  and  therefore 
won  the  wrong  tense  of  gratitude?),  it  was  in  my  power  at 
any  moment  to  take  horse  and  go.    And  this  would  have 


594  LOHNA  DOONE. 

been  my  wisest  plan,  and  a  very  great  savinpf  of  money;  but 
somehow  I  felt  as  if  it  would  be  a  mean  thing  to  slip  off 
so.  Even  while  I  was  hesitating,  and  the  men  were  break- 
ing each  other's  heads,  a  superior  officer  rode  up  with  his 
sword  drawn  and  his  face  on  fire. 

''What,  my  lambs,  my  lambs!"  he  cried,  smiting  with 
the  flat  of  his  sword;  *'is  this  how  you  waste  my  time  and 
my  purse,  when  you  ought  to  be  catching  a  hundred  prison- 
ers, worth  ten  pounds  apiece  to  me?  Who  is  this  young 
fellow  we  have  here?  Speak  up,  sirrah;  what  are  thou, 
and  how  much  will  thy  good  mother  pay  for  thee?'' 

^'  My  mother  will  pay  naught  for  me,"  I  answered;  while 
the  lambs  fell  back,  and  glowered  at  one  another;  *'so 
please  your  worship,  I  am  no  rebel,  but  an  honest  farmer, 
and  well  proved  of  loyalty." 

'*  Ha,  ha!  a  farmer  art  thou?  Those  fellows  always  pay 
the  best.  Good  farmer,  come  to  yon  barren  tree;  thou 
shalt  make  it  fruitful." 

Colonel  Kirke  made  a  sign  to  his  men,  and  before  I  could 
think  of  resistance  stout  new  ropes  were  flung  around  me; 
and  with  three  men  on  either  side,  was  led  along  very  pain- 
fully. And  now  I  saw,  and  repented  deeply  of  my  careless 
folly  in  stopping  with  those  boon-companions,  instead  of 
being  far  away.  But  the  newness  of  their  manners  to  me, 
and  their  mode  of  regarding  the  world  (differing  so  much 
from  mine  own),  as  well  as  the  flavor  of  their  tobacco,  had 
made  me  quite  forget  my  duty  to  the  farm  and  to  myself. 
Yet  methought  they  would  be  tender  to  me,  after  all  our 
speeches:  how,  then,  was  I  disappointed,  when  the  men 
who  had  drunk  my  beer  drew  on  those  grievous  ropes  twice 
as  hard  as  the  men  I  had  been  at  strife  with!  Yet  this 
may  have  been  from  no  ill-will,  but  simply  that,  having 
fallen  under  suspicion  of  laxity,  they  were  compelled,  in 
self-defense,  now  to  be  overzealous. 

Nevertheless,  however  pure  and  godly  might  be  their 
motives,  I  beheld  myself  in  a  grievous  case,  and  likely  to 
get  the  worst  of  it.  For  the  face  of  the  Colonel  was  hard 
and  stern  as  a  block  of  bog-wood  oaK;  and  though  the  men 
might  pity  me,  and  think  me  unjustly  executed,  yet  they 
must  obey  their  orders,  or  themselves  be  put  to  death. 
Therefore  I  addressed  myself  to  the  Colonel  in  a  most  in- 
gratiating manner,  begging  him  not  to  sully  the  glory  of 


FALLING  AMONG  LAMBS.  695 

his  victory,  and  dwelling  upon  my  pure  innocence,  ana 
even  good  service  to  our  lord  the  King.  But  Colonel  Kirke 
only  gave  command  that  I  should  be  smitten  in  the  mouth, 
which  office  Bob,  whom  I  had  flung  so  hard  out  of  the 
linhay,  performed  with  great  zeal  and  efficiency.  But 
being  aware  of  the  coming  smack,  I  thrust  forth  a  pair  of 
teeth;  upon  which  the  knuckles  of  my  good  friend  made  a 
melancholy  shipwreck. 

It  is  not  in  my  power  to  tell  half  the  thoughts  that 
moved  me  when  we  came  to  the  fatal  tree,  and  saw  two  men 
hanging  there  already,  as  innocent,  perhaps,  as  I  was,  and 
henceforth  entirely  harmless.  Though  ordered  by  the 
Colonel  to  look  steadfastly  upon  them,  I  could  not  bear  to 
do  so;  upon  which  he  called  me  a  paltry  coward,  and 
promised  my  breeches  to  any  man  who  would  spit  upon  my 
countenance.  This  vile  thing  Bob,  being  angered  perhaps 
by  the  smarting  wound  of  his  knuckles,  bravely  stepped  for- 
ward to  do  for  me,  trusting,  no  doubt,  to  the  rope  I  was 
led  with.  But,  unluckily  as  it  proved  for  him,  "my  right 
arm  was  free  for  a  moment;  and  therewith  I  dealt  him 
such  a  blow  that  he  never  spake  again.  For  this  thing  I 
have  often  grieved;  but  the  provocation  was  very  sore  to 
the  pride  of  a  young  man,  and  I  trust  that  God  has  for- 
given me.  At  the  sound  and  sight  of  that  bitter  stroke, 
the  other  men  drew  back;  and  Colonel  Kirke,  now  black 
in  the  face  with  fury  and  vexation,  gave  orders  for  to  shoot 
me,  and  cast  me  into  the  ditch  hard  by.  The  men  raised 
their  pieces  and  pointed  at  me,  waiting  for  the  word  to 
fire;  and  I,  being  quite  overcome  by  the  hurry  of  these 
events,  and  quite  unprepared  to  die  yet,  could  only  think 
all  upside  down  about  Lorna,  and  my  mother,  and  wonder 
what  each  would  say  to  it.  I  spread  my  hands  before  my 
eyes,  not  being  so  brave  as  some  men,  and  hoping,  in  some 
foolish"  way,  to  cover  my  heart  with  my  elbows.  I  heard 
the  breath  of  all  around,  as  if  my  skull  were  a  sounding- 
board,  and  knew  even  how  the  different  men  were  fingering 
their  triggers.  And  a  cold  sweat  broke  all  over  me,  as  the 
Colonel,  prolonging  his  enjoyment,  began  slowly  to  say, 
*'Fire." 

But  while  he  was  yet  dwelling  on  the  "  F,"  the  hoofs  of 
a  horse  dashed  out  on  the  road,  and  horse  and  horseman 
flung  themselves  betwixt  me  and  the  gun-muzzles.     Sq 


596  LORNA  BOONE, 

narrowly  was  I  saved  that  one  man  could  not  check  his 
trigger;  his  musket  went  off,  and  the  ball  struck  the  horse 
on  the  withers,  and  scared  him  exceedingly.  He  began  to 
lash  out  with  his  heels  all  around,  and  the  Colonel  was 
glad  to  keep  clear  of  him;  and  the  men  made  excuse  to 
lower  their  guns,  not  really  wishing  to  shoot  me. 

*'  How  now.  Captain  Stickles?"  cried  Kirke,  the  more 
angry  because  he  had  shown  his  cowardice;  ''dare  you, 
sir,  to  come  between  me  and  my  lawful  prisoner?" 

''  Nay,  hearken  one  moment.  Colonel,"  replied  my  old 
friend  Jeremy;  and  his  damaged  voice  was  the  sweetest 
sound  I  had  heard  for  many  a  day;  ''for  your  own  sake, 
hearken."  He  looked  so  full  of  momentous  tidings,  that 
Colonel  Kirke  made  a  sign  to  his  men  not  to  shoot  me  till 
further  orders;  and  then  he  went  aside  with  Stickles,  so 
that  in  spite  of  all  my  anxiety  I  could  not  catch  what  passed 
between  them.  But  I  fancied  that  the  name  of  the  Lord 
Chief-justice  Jeffreys  was  spoken  more  than  once,  and  with 
emphasis  and  deference. 

"  Then  I  leave  him  in  your  hands.  Captain  Stickles," 
said  Kirke  at  last,  so  that  all  might  hear  him;  and  though 
the  news  was  so  good  for  me,  the  smile  of  baffled  malice 
made  his  dark  face  look  most  hideous;  "  and  I  shall  hold 
you  answerable  for  the  custody  of  this  prisoner." 

"  Colonel  Kirke,  I  will  answer  for  him,"  Master  Stickles 
replied,  with  a  grave  bow,  and  one  hand  on  his  breast; 
"John  Kidd,  you  are  my  prisoner.  Follow  me,  John 
Eidd." 

Upon  that,  those  precious  lambs  flocked  away,  leaving 
the  rope  still  around  me;  and  some  were  glad,  and  some 
were  sorry,  not  to  see  me  swinging.  Being  free  of  my 
arms  again,  I  touched  my  hat  to  Colonel  Kirke  as  became 
his  rank  and  experience;  but  he  did  not  condescend  to  re- 
turn my  short  salutation,  having  espied  in  the  distance  a 
prisoner  out  of  whom  he  might  make  money. 

I  wrung  the  hand  of  Jeremy  Stickles,  for  his  truth  and 
goodness;  and  he  almost  wept  (for  since  his  wound  he  had 
been  a  weakened  man)  as  he  answered,  "Turn  for  turn, 
John.  You  saved  my  life  from  the  Doones;  and  by  the 
mercy  of  God,  I  have  saved  you  from  ^  fw  worse  company, 
Let  your  sister  Auuie  kmw  lu" 


SUITABLE  DEVOTION,  697 


CHAPTER  LXVI. 

SUITABLE   DEVOTION". 

Now  KiCKUMS  was  not  like  Winnie,  any  more  than  a 
man  is  like  a  woman;  and  so  he  had  not  followed  my  fort- 
unes, except  at  his  own  distance.  No  doubt  but  what  ho 
felt  a  certain  interest  in  me;  but  his  interest  was  not 
devotion;  and  man  might  go  his  way  and  be  hanged, 
rather  than  horse  would  meet  hardship.  Therefore,  see- 
ing things  to  be  bad,  and  his  master  involved  in  trouble, 
what  did  this  horse  do  but  start  for  the  ease  and  comfort 
of  Plovers  Barrows,  and  the  plentiful  ration  of  oats  abid- 
ing in  his  own  manger.  For  this  I  do  not  blame  him.  It 
is  the  manner  of  mankind. 

But  I  could  not  help  being  very  uneasy  at  the  thought 
of  my  mother's  discomfort  and  worry,  when  she  should  spy 
this  good  horse  coming  home,  without  any  master  or  rider, 
and  I  almost  hoped  that  he  might  be  caught  (although 
he  was  worth  at  least  twenty  pounds)  by  some  of  the 
King's  troopers,  rather  than  find  his  way  home,  and  spread 
distress  among  our  people.  Yet,  knowing  his  nature,  I 
doubted  if  any  could  catch,  or,  catching,  would  keep  him. 

Jeremy  Stickles  assured  me  as  we  took  the  road  to 
Bridgewater,  that  the  only  chance  of  my  life  (if  I  still 
refused  to  fly)  was  to  obtain  an  order  forthwith  for  my 
dispatch  to  London  as  a  suspected  person  indeed,  but  not 
found  in  open  rebellion,  and  believed  to  be  under  the 
patronage  of  the  great  Lord  Jeffreys.  ''For,"  said  he, 
*Mn  a  few  hours' time  you  would  fall  into  the  hands  of 
Lord  Feversham,  who  has  won  this  fight,  without  seeing 
it,  and  who  has  returned  to  bed  again,  to  have  his  break- 
fast more  comfortably.  Now  he  may  not  be  quite  so  sav- 
age, perhaps,  as  Colonel  Kirke,  nor  find  so  much  sport  in 
gibbeting;  but  he  is  equally  pitiless,  and  his  price  no  doubt 
would  be  higher,"' 


598  LORNA  BOONE. 

*'Iwill  pay  no  price  whatever/' I  ariswered,  "neither 
will  I  fly.  An  hour  agone  I  would  have  fled  for  the  sake  of 
my  mother  and  the  farm.  But  now  that  I  have  been  taken 
prisoner,  and  my  name  is  known,  if  I  fly,  the  farm  is  for- 
feited, and  my  mother  and  sister  must  starve.  Moreover, 
I  liave  done  no  harm;  I  have  borne  no  weapons  against  the 
King,  nor  desired  the  success  of  his  enemies.  I  like  not 
that  the  son  of  a  bona-roba  should  be  King  of  England, 
neither  do  1  count  the  papists  any  worse  than  we  are.  If 
they  have  aught  to  try  me  for,  I  will  stand  my  trial.'' 

*'Then  to  London  thou  must  go,  my  son.  There  is  no 
such  thing  as  trial  here;  we  hang  the  good  folk  without 
it,  which  saves  them  much  anxiety.  But  quicken  thy 
step,  good  John;  I  have  influence  with  Lord  Churchill, 
and  we  must  contrive  to  see  him  ere  the  foreigner  falls  to 
work  again.  Lord  Churchill  is  a  man  of  sense,  and 
imprisons  nothing  but  his  money." 

We  were  lucky  enough  to  find  this  nobleman,  who  has 
since  become  so  famous  by  his  foreign  victories.  He 
received  us  with  great  civility;  and  looked  at  me  with  much 
interest,  being  a  tall  and  fine  young  man  himself,  but  not 
to  compare  with  me  in  size,  although  far  better  favored. 
I  Hked  his  face  well  enough,  but  thought  there  was  some- 
thing false  about  it.  He  put  me  a  few  keen  questions, 
such  as  a  man  not  assured  of  honesty  might  have  found 
hard  to  answer;  and  he  stood  in  a  very  upright  attitude, 
making  the  most  of  his  figure. 

I  saw  nothing  to  be  proud  of,  at  the  moment,  in  this  in- 
terview; but  since  the  great  Duke  of  Marlborough  rose  to 
the  top  of  glory,  I  have  tried  to  remember  more  about  him 
than  my  conscience  quite  backs  up.  How  should  I  know 
that  this  man  would  be  foremost  of  our  kingdom  in  five- 
and-twenty  years  or  so?  and  not  knowing,  why  should  I 
heed  him,  except  for  my  own  pocket?  Nevertiieless,  I  have 
been  so  cross-questioned — far  worse  than  by  young  Lord 
Churchill— about  His  Grace  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  and 
what  he  said  to  me,  and  what  I  said  then,  and  how  His 
Grace  replied  to  that,  and  whether  he  smiled  like  another 
man,  or  screwed  up  his  lips  like  a  button  (as  our  parish 
tailor  said  of  him),  and  whether  I  knew  from  tne  turn  of 
his  nose  that  no  Frenchman  could  stand  before  him,  all 
these  inc^uiries  have  worried  me  so  ever  since  the  battle  of 


SUITABLE  DEVOTION.  699 

Blenheim,  that  if  tailors  would  only  print  upon  waistcoats, 
I  would  give  double  price  for  a  vest  bearing  this  inscrip- 
tion, "  No  information  can  be  given  about  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough." 

Now  this  good  Lord  Churchill — for  one  might  call  him 
good,  by  comparison  with  the  very  bad  people  around 
him — granted  without  any  long  hesitation,  the  order  for 
my  safe  deliverance  to  the  Court  of  King's  Bench  at  West- 
minster; and  Stickles  who  had  to  report  in  London,  was 
empowered  to  convey  me,  and  made  answerable  for  pro- 
ducing me.  This  arrangement  would  have  been  entirely 
to  my  liking,  although  the  time  of  year  was  bad  for  leaving 
Plovers  Barrows  so;  but  no  man  may  quite  choose  his  time; 
and  on  the  whole  I  would  have  been  quite  content  to  visit 
London,  if  my  mother  could  be  warned  that  nothing  was 
amiss  with  me,  only  a  mild,  and,  as  one  might  say,  nom- 
inal captivity.  And  to  prevent  her  anxiety,  1  did  my  best 
to  send  a  letter  through  good  Sergeant  Bloxham,  of  whom 
I  heard  as  quartered  with  Dumbarton's  regiment  at  Ched- 
zuy.  But  that  regiment  was  away  in  pursuit;  and  I  was 
forced  to  intrust  my  letter  to  a  man  who  said  that  he  knew 
him,  and  accepted  a  shilling  to  see  to  it. 

For  fear  of  any  unpleasant  change,  we  set  forth  at  once 
for  London;  and  truly  thankful  may  I  be  that  God  in  His 
mercy  spared  me  the  sight  of  the  cruel  and  bloody  work 
with  which  the  whole  country  reeked  and  howled  during 
the  next  fortnight.  I  have  heard  things  that  set  my  hair 
on  end,  and  made  me  loath  good  meat  for  days;  but  I 
made  a  point  of  setting  down  only  the  things  which  I  saw 
done;  and  in  this  particular  case  not  many  will  quarrel 
with  my  decision.  Enough,  therefore,  that  we  rode  on  (for 
Stickles  had  found  mt  a  horse  at  last)  as  far  as  Wells, 
where  we  slept  that  night;  and  being  joined  in  the  morn- 
ing by  several  troopers  and  orderlies,  we  made  a  slow  but 
safe  journey  to  Londo^i  by  way  of  Bath  and  Reading. 

The  sight  of  London  warmed  my  heart  with  various 
emotions,  such  as  a  cordial  man  must  draw  from  the  heart 
of  all  humanity.  Here  there  are  quick  ways  and  manners, 
and  the  rapid  sense  of  knowledge,  and  the  power  of  under- 
standing, ere  a  word  be  spoken.  Whereas  at  Oare  you 
must  say  a  thing  three  times,  very  slowly,  before  it  gets  in- 
side the  skull  of  the  good  man  you  are  addressing.     And. 


goo  LORNA  DOONE. 

yet  we  are  far  more  clever  there  than  in  any  parish  for 
fifteen  miles. 

But  what  moved  me  most,  when  I  saw  again  the  noble 
oil  and  tallow  of  the  London  lights,  and  the  dripping 
torches  at  almost  every  corner,  and  the  handsome  sign- 
boards, was  the  thought  that  here  my  Lorna  lived,  and 
walked,  and  took  the  air,  and  perhaps  thouglit  now  and 
then  of  the  old  days  in  the  good  farm-house.  Although  I 
would  make  no  approach  to  her,  any  more  than  she  had 
done  to  me  (upon  which  grief  I  have  not  dwelt,  for  fear  of 
seeming  selfish),  yet  there  must  be  some  large  chance,  or 
the  little  chance  might  be  enlarged,  of  falling  in  with  the 
maiden  somehow,  and  learning  how  her  mind  was  set.  If 
against  me,  all  should  be  over.  I  was  not  the  man  to  sigh 
and  cry  for  love  like  a  Romeo;  none  should  even  guess  my 
grief  except  my  sister  Annie. 

But  if  Lorna  loved  me  still — as  in  my  heart  of  hearts  I 
hoped — then  would  I  for  no  one  care,  except  her  own  deli- 
cious self.  Eank  and  title,  wealth  and  grandeur,  all  should 
go  to  the  winds  before  they  scared  me  from  my  own  true- 
love. 

Thinking  thus,  I  went  to  bed  in  the  center  of  London 
town,  and  was  bitten  so  grievously  by  creatures  whose 
name  is  "  Legion,"  mad  with  delight  at  getting  a  wholesome 
farmer  among  them,  that  verily  I  was  ashamed  to  walk  in 
the  courtly  parts  of  the  town  next  day,  having  lumps  upon 
my  face  of  the  size  of  a  pickling  walnut.  The  landlord 
said  that  this  was  nothing;  and  that  he  expected,  in  two 
days  at  the  utmost,  a  very  fresh  young  Irishman,  for  whom 
they  would  all  forsake  me.  Nevertheless,  I  declined  to 
wait,  unless  he  could  find  me  a  hay-rick  to  sleep  in;  for 
the  insects  of  grass  only  tickle.  He  assured  me  that  no 
hay-rick  could  now  be  found  in  London;  upon  which  I  was 
forced  to  leave  him,  and  with  mutual  esteem  we  parted. 

The  next  night  I  had  better  luck,  being  introduced  to  a 
decent  widow  of  very  high  Scotch  origin.  That  house  was 
swept  and  garnished  so,  that  not  a  bit  was  left  to  eat  for 
either  man  or  insect.  The  change  of  air  having  made  me 
hungry,  I  wanted  something  after  supper,  being  quite 
ready  to  pay  for  it,  and  showing  my  purse  as  a  symptom. 
But  the  face  of  Widow  MacAlister,  when  I  proposed  to 
have  some  more  food,  was  a  thing  to  be  drawn  (if  it  could 
be  drawn  farther)  by  ournew  caricaturists. 


SUITABLE  DEVOTION.  601 

Therefore!  left  her  also,  for  liefer  would  I  be  eaten 
myself  than  have  nothing  to  eat;  and  so  I  came  back  to 
my  old  furrier;  the  which  was  a  thoroughly  hearty  man, 
and  welcomed  me  to  my  room  again,  with  two  shillings 
added  to  the  rent,  in  the  joy  of  his  heart  at  seeing  me. 
Being  under  parole  to  Master  Stickles,  I  only  went  out 
betwixt  certain  hours;  because  I  was  accounted  as  liable  to 
be  called  upon,  for  what  purpose  I  knew  not,  but  hoped 
it  might  be  a  good  one.  I  felt  it  a  loss,  and  a  hinderance 
to  me,  that  I  was  so  bound  to  remain  at  home  during  the 
session  of  the  courts  of  law;  for  thereby  the  chance  of  ever 
beholding  Lorna  was  very  greatly  contracted,  if  not  alto- 
gether annihilated.  For  these  were  the  very  hours  in  which 
the  people  of  fashion  and  the  high  world  were  wont  to  appear 
to  the  rest  of  mankind,  so  as  to  encourage  them.  And  of 
course  by  this  time  the  Lady  Lorna  was  high  among  people 
of  fashion,  and  was  not  likely  to  be  seen  out  of  fashionable 
hours.  It  is  true  that  there  were  some  places  of  expensive 
entertainment,  at  which  the  better  sort  of  mankind  might 
be  seen  and  studied,  in  their  hours  of  relaxation,  by  those 
of  the  lower  order,  who  could  pay  sufficiently.  But  alas, 
my  money  was  getting  low;  and  the  privilege  of  seeing  my 
betters  was  more  and  more  denied  to  me,  as  my  cash  drew 
shorter.  For  a  man  must  have  a  good  coat,  at  least,  and 
tiie  pockets  not  wholly  empty,  before  he  can  look  at  those 
whom  God  has  created  for  his  ensample. 

Hence,  and  from  many  other  causes — ^part  of  which  was 
my  own  pride — it  happened  that  I  abode  in  London  betwixt 
a  month  and  five  weeks'  time,  ere  ever  I  saw  Lorna.  It 
seemed  unfit  that  I  should  go  and  waylay  her,  and  spy  on 
her,  and  say  (or  mean  to  say),  '*  Lo,  here  is  your  poor 
faithful  farmer,  a  man  who  is  unworthy  of  you,  by  means 
of  his  common  birth,  and  yet  who  dares  to  crawl  across 
your  path,  that  you  may  pity  him.  For  God's  sake  show  a 
little  pity,  though  you  may  not  feel  it."  Such  behavior 
might  be  comely  in  a  love-lorn  boy,  a  page  to  some  grand 
princess;  but  I,  John  Ridd,  v/ould  never  stoop  to  lowering 
of  love  so, 

Nevertheless  I  heard  of  Lorna  from  my  worthy  furrier 
almost  every  day,  and  with  a  fine  exaggeration.  This 
honest  man  was  one  of  those  who,  in  virtue  of  their  trade, 
and  nicety  of  behavior,  are  admitted  into  noble  life,  to 


602 


LORNA  BOONE, 


take  measurements  and  show  patterns.  And  while  so 
doing,  they  contrive  to  acquire  what  is  to  the  English  mind 
at  once  the  most  important  and  most  interesting  of  all 
knowledge— the  science  of  being  able  to  talk  about  the 
titled  people.  So  my  furrier  (whose  name  was  Ramsack), 
having  to  make  robes  for  peers,  and  cloaks  for  their  wives 
and  otherwise,  knew  the  great  folk,  sham  or  real,  as  well 
as  he  knew  a  fox  or  skunk  from  a  wolverine  skin. 

And  when,  with  some  fencing  and  foils  of  inquiry,  I 
hinted  about  Lady  Lorna  Dugal,  the  old  man's  face  became 
so  pleasant  that  I  knew  her  birth  must  be  wondrous  high. 
At  this  my  own  countenance  fell,  I  suppose — for  the  better 
she  was  born  the  harder  she  would  be  to  marry — and  mis- 
taking my  object,  he  took  me  up. 

'^Perhaps  you  think.  Master  Ridd,  that  because  her 
ladyship.  Lady  Lorna  Dugal,  is  of  Scottish  origin,  tlierefore 
her  birth  is  not  as  high  as  of  our  English  nobility.  If  you 
think  so,  you  are  wrong,  sir.  She  comes  not  of  the  sandy 
Scotch  race,  with  high  cheek-bones  and  raw  shoulder- 
blades,  who  set  up  pillars  in  their  court-yards,  but  she 
comes  of  the  very  best  Scotch  blood,  descended  from  the 
ISTorsemen.  Her  mother  was  of  the  very  noblest  race,  the 
Lords  of  Lome,  higher  even  than  the  great  Argyle,  who 
has  lately  made  a  sad  mistake,  and  paid  for  it  most  sadly. 
And  her  father  was  descended  from  the  King  Dugal,  who 
fought  against  Alexander  the  Great.  No,  no.  Master 
Ridd,  none  of  your  promiscuous  blood,  such  as  runs  in  the 
veins  of  half  our  modern  peerage." 

'*  Why  should  you  trouble  yourself  about  it.  Master 
Ramsack?"  I  replied.  "Let  them  all  go  their  own  ways, 
and  let  us  all  look  up  to  them,  whether  they  come  by  hook 
or  crook." 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all,  my  lad.  That  is  not  the  way  to 
regard  it.  We  look  up  at  the  well-born  men,  and  side- 
ways at  the  base-born." 

"  Then  we  are  all  base-born  ourselves.  I  will  look  up  to 
no  man,  except  for  what  himself  has  done." 

"  Come,  Master  Ridd,  you  might  be  lashed  from  New- 
gate to  Tyburn  and  back  again,  once  a  week  for  a  twelve- 
month, if  some  people  heard  you.  Keep  your  tongue  more 
close,  young  man,  or  here  you  lodge  no  longer,  albeit  I 
love  your  company,  which  smells  to  me  of  the  hay-field. 


SUITABLE  DEVOTION.  603 

Ah!  I  have  not  seen  a  hay-field  for  nine-and-twenty  years, 
John  Ridd.  The  cursed  moths  keep  me  at  home  everyday 
of  the  summer." 

**  Spread  your  furs  on  the  hay-cocks,''  I  answered,  very 
boldly;  ''  the  indoor  moth  cannot  abide  the  presence  of  the 
outdoor  ones." 

"  Is  it  so?"  he  answered.  *'  I  never  thought  of  that  be- 
fore. And  yet  I  have  known  such  strange  things  happen 
in  the  way  of  fur  that  I  can  well  believe  it.  If  you  only 
knew,  John  Ridd,  the  way  in  which  they  lay  their  eggs, 
and  how  they  work  tail-foremost " 

**  Tell  me  nothing  of  the  kind,"  I  replied,  with  equal 
confidence;  **  they  cannot  work  tail-foremost;  and  they 
have  no  tails  to  work  with."  For  1  knew  a  little  about 
grubs,  and  the  ignorance  concerning  them,  which  we  have 
no  right  to  put  up  with.  However,  not  to  go  into  that 
(for  the  argument  lasted  a  fortnight;  and  then  was  only 
come  so  far  as  to  begin  again).  Master  Ramsack  soon  con- 
vinced me  of  the  things  I  knew  already — the  excellence  of 
Lorna's  birth,  as  well  as  her  lofty  place  at  Court,  and 
beauty,  and  wealth,  and  elegance.  But  all  these  only 
made  me  sigh,  and  wish  that  I  were  born  to  them. 

From  Master  Ramsack  I  discovered  that  the  nobleman 
to  whose  charge  Lady  Lorna  had  been  committed  by  the 
Court  of  Chancery,  was  Earl  Brandir  of  Lochawe,  her 
poor  mother's  uncle.  For  the  Countess  of  Dugal  was 
daughter,  and  only  child,  of  the  last  Lord  Lome,  whose 
sister  had  married  Sir  Ensor  Doone;  while  he  himself 
had  married  the  sister  of  Earl  Brandir.  This  nobleman 
had  a  country  house  near  the  village  of  Kensington:  and 
here  his  niece  dwelt  with  him,  when  she  was  not  in  attend- 
ance on  Her  Majesty  the  Queen,  who  had  taken  a  liking  to 
her.  Now  since  the  King  had  begun  to  attend  the  cele- 
bration of  mass  in  the  chapel  at  Whitehall — and  not  at 
Westminster  Abbey,  as  our  gossips  had  averred — he  had 
given  orders  that  the  doors  should  be  thrown  open,  so  that 
all  who  could  make  interest  to  get  into  the  ante-chamber 
might  see  this  form  of  worship.  Master  Ramsack  told  me 
that  Lorna  was  there  almost  every  Sunday;  their  Majesties 
being  most  anxious  to  have  the  presence  of  all  the  nobility 
of  the  Catholic  persuasion,  so  as  to  make  a  goodly  show. 
And  the  worthy  furrier,  having  influence  with  the  door- 


604  LORNA  BOONE. 

keepers,  kindly  obtained  admittance  for  me,  one  Sunday, 
into  the  ante-chamber. 

Here  I  took  care  to  be  in  waiting,  before  the  Royal  pio- 
cession  entered;  but  being  unknown,  and  of  no  high  rank, 
I  was  not  allowed  to  stand  forward  among  the  better  people, 
but  ordered  back  into  a  corner  very  dark  and  dismal;  the 
verger  remarking,  with  a  grin,  that  I  could  see  over  all 
other  heads,  and  must  not  set  my  own  so  high.  Being 
frightened,  to  find  myself  among  so  many  people  of  great 
rank  and  gorgeous  apparel,  I  blushed  at  the  notice  drawn 
upon  me  by  this  uncourteous  fellow,  and  silently  fell  back 
into  the  corner  by  the  hangings. 

You  may  suppose  that  my  heart  beat  high  when  the  King 
and  Queen  appeared  and  entered,  followed  by  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk  bearing  the  sword  of  state,  and  by  several  other 
noblemen  and  people  of  repute.  Then  the  doors  of  the 
chapel  were  thrown  wide  open;  and  though  I  could  only 
see  a  little,  being  in  the  corner  so,  I  thought  that  it  was 
beautiful.  Bowers  of  rich  silk  were  there,  and  plenty  of 
metal  shining,  and  polished  wood  with  lovely  carving; 
flowers,  too,  of  the  noblest  kind,  and  candles  made  by 
somebody  who  had  learned  how  to  clarify  tallow.  This  last 
thing  amazed  me  more  than  all;  for  our  dips  never  will 
come  clear,  melt  the  mutton-fat  how  you  will.  And  me- 
thought  that  this  hanging  of  flowers  about  was  a  very 
pretty  thing;  for  if  a  man  can  worship  God  best  of  all  be- 
neath a  tree,  as  the  natural  instinct  is,  surely  when,  by 
fault  of  climate,  the  tree  would  be  too  apt  to  drip,  the  very 
best  make-beUeve  is  to  have  enough  and  to  spare  of  flowers; 
which  to  the  dwellers  in  London  seem  to  have  grown  on 
the  tree  denied  them. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  when  the  King  and  Queen  crossed  the 
threshold,  a  mighty  flourish  of  trumpets  arose,  and  a  wav- 
ing of  banners.  The  Knights  of  the  Garter  (whoever  they 
be)  were  to  attend  that  day  in  state;  and  some  went  in  and 
some  stayed  out,  and  it  made  me  think  of  the  difference 
betwixt  the  ewes  and  the  wethers.  For  the  ewes  will  go 
wherever  you  lead  them;  but  tlie  wethers  will  not,  having 
strong  opinions,  and  meaning  to  abide  by  them.  And  one 
man  I  noticed  was  of  the  wethers,  to- wit,  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  who  stopped  outside  with  the  sword  of  state,  like 
a  beadle  with  a  rapping-rod.     This  has  taken  more  to  tell 


SUITABLE  DEVOTION,  605 

than  the  time  it  happened  in.  For  after  all  the  men  were 
gone,  some  to  this  side,  some  to  that,  according  to  their 
feelings,  a  number  of  ladies,  beautifully  dressed,  being  of 
the  Queen's  retinue,  began  :o  enter,  and  were  stared  at 
three  times  as  much  as  the  men  had  been.  And  indeed 
they  were  worth  looking  at  (which  men  never  are,  to  my 
ideas,  when  they  trick  themselves  with  gewgaws),  but  none 
was  so  well  worth  eye-service  as  my  own  beloved  Lorna.  She 
entered  modestly  and  shyly,  with  her  eyes  upon  the 
ground,  knowing  the  rudeness  of  the  gallants,  and  the 
large  sum  she  was  priced  at.  Her  dress  was  of  the  purest 
white,  very  sweet  and  simple,  without  a  line  of  ornament, 
for  she  herself  adorned  it.  The  way  she  walked,  and 
touched  her  skirt  (rather  than  seemed  to  hold  it  up),  with 
a  white  hand  bearing  one  red  rose,  this,  and  her  stately, 
supple  neck,  and  the  flowing  of  her  hair  would  show  at  a 
distance  of  a  hundred  yards  that  she  could  be  none  but 
Lorna  Doone.  Lorna  Doone  of  my  early  love;  in  the  days 
when  she  blushed  for  her  name  before  me,  by  reason  of 
dishonesty;  but  now  the  Lady  Lorna  Dugal;  as  far  beyond 
reproach  as  above  my  poor  affection.  All  my  heart  and  all 
my  mind  gathered  themselves  upon  her.  Would  she  see 
me,  or  would  she  pass?    Was  there  instinct  in  our  love  ? 

By  some  strange  chance  she  saw  me.  Or  was  it  through 
our  destiny?  While  with  eyes  kept  sedulously  on  the 
marble  floor,  to  shun  the  weight  of  admiration  thrust  too 
boldly  on  them,  while  with  shy  quick  steps  she  passed, 
some  one  (perhaps  with  purpose)  trod  on  the  skirt  of  her 
clear  white  dress;  with  the  quickness  taught  her  by  many 
a  scene  of  danger,  she  looked  up,  and  her  eyes  met  mine. 

As  I  gazed  upon  her  steadfastly,  yearningly,  yet  with 
some  reproach,  and  more  of  pride  than  humility,  she  made 
me  one  of  the  courtly  bows  which  I  do  so  much  detest;  yet 
even  that  was  sweet  and  graceful  when  my  Lorna  did  it. 
But  the  color  of  her  pure  clear  cheeks  was  nearly  as  deep 
as  that  of  my  own,  when  she  went  on  for  the  religious 
work.  And  the  shining  of  her  eyes  was  owing  to  an 
unpaid  debt  of  tears. 

Upon  the  whole  I  was  satisfied.  Lorna  had  seen  me,  and 
had  not  (according  to  the  phrase  of  the  high  world)  then 
even  tried  to  ''  cut"  me.  Wliether  this  low  phrase  is  born 
of  their  own  stupid  meanness,  or  whether  it  comes  of  neces- 


eo6  LOBNA  DOONR 

sity  exercised  on  a  man  without  money,  I  know  not,  and 
I  care  not.  But  one  thing  I  know  right  well;  any  man 
who  *'  cuts  "  a  man  (except  for  vice  or  meanness)  should  be 
quartered  without  quarter. 

All  these  proud  thoughts  rose  within  me  as  the  lovely 
form  of  Lorna  went  inside,  and  was  no  more  seen.  And 
then  I  felt  how  coarse  I  was;  how  apt  to  think  strong 
thoughts,  and  so  on;  without  brains  to  bear  me  out:  even 
as  a  hen's  Qgg  laid,  without  enough  of  lime,  and  looking 
only  a  poor  jelly. 

Nevertheless,  I  waited  on,  as  my  usual  manner  is.  For 
to  be  beaten  while  running  away,  is  ten  times  worse  than 
to  face  it  out,  and  take  it,  and  have  done  with  it.  So  at 
least  I  have  always  found,  because  of  reproach  of  con- 
science; and  all  the  things  those  clever  people  carried  on 
inside  at  large  made  me  long  for  our  Parson  Bowden  that 
he  might  know  how  to  act. 

While  I  stored  up  in  my  memory  enough  to  keep  our 
parson  going  through  six  pipes  on  a  Saturday  night — to 
have  it  as  right  as  could  be  next  day — a  lean  man  with  a 
yellow  beard,  too  thin  for  a  good  Catholic  (which  religion 
always  fattens),  came  up  to  me,  working  sideways,  in  the 
manner  of  a  female  crab. 

*' This  is  not  to  my  liking,''  I  said;  "if  aught  thou  hast, 
speak  plainly,  while  they  make  that  horrible  noise  inside.'* 

Nothing  had  this  man  to  say;  but  with  many  sighs, 
because  I  was  not  of  the  proper  faith,  he  took  my  repro- 
bate hand  to  save  me,  and  with  several  religious  tears 
looked  up  at  me,  and  winked  with  one  eye.  Although  the 
skin  of  my  palms  was  thick,  I  felt  a  little  suggestion  there, 
as  of  a  gentle  leaf  in  spring,  fearing  to  seem  too  forward. 
I  paid  the  man,  and  he  went  happy;  for  the  standard  of 
heretical  silver  is  purer  than  that  of  the  Catholics. 

Then  I  lifted  up  my  little  billet;  and  in  that  dark  corner 
read  it,  with  a  strong  rainbow  of  colors  coming  from  the 
angled  light.  And  in  mine  eyes  there  was  enough  to  make 
rainbow  of  strongest  sun,  as  my  anger  clouded  off. 

Not  that  it  began  so  well,  but  that  in  my  heart  I  knew 
(ere  three  lines  were  through  me)  that  I  was  with  all  heart 
loved— and  beyond  that,  who  may  need  .^  The  darling  of 
my  life  went  on  as  if  I  were  of  her  own  rank,  or  even 
better  than  she  was;  and  she  dotted  her  "i's"  and  crossed 


SUITABLE  DEVOTIOIfr,  607 

her  ''t's"  as  if  I  were  at  least  a  school-master.  All  of  it 
was  done  in  pencil,  but  as  plain  as  plain  could  be.  In  my 
coffin  it  shall  lie,  with  my  ring  and  something  else.  There- 
fore will  I  not  expose  it  to  every  man  who  buys  tliis  book, 
and  haply  thinks  that  he  has  bought  me  to  the  bottom  of 
my  heart.  Enough  for  men  of  gentle  birth  (who  never 
are  inquisitive)  that  my  love  told  me,  in  her  letter,  just  to 
come  and  see  her. 

I  ran  away,  and  could  not  stop.  To  behold  even  her 
at  the  moment  would  have  dashed  my  fancy's  joy.  Yet 
my  brain  was  so  amiss,  that  I  must  do  something.  There- 
fore to  the  river  Thames,  with  all  speed,  I  hurried;  and 
keeping  all  my  best  clothes  on  (indued  for  sake  of  Lorna), 
into  the  quiet  stream  I  leaped,  and  swam  as  far  as  London 
Bridge,  and  ate  noble  dinner  afterward. 


^03  LORNA  DOONE. 


CHAPTER  LXVII. 

LOKNA  STILL  IS  LORNA. 

Although  a  man  may  be  as  simple  as  the  flowers  of  the 
field;  knowing  when,  but  scarcely  why,  he  closes  to  the 
bitter  wind;  and  feeling  why,  but  scarcely  when,  he  opens 
to  the  genial  sun;  yet  without  his  questing  much  into  the 
capsule  of  himself — to  do  which  is  a  misery — he  may  have 
a  general  notion  how  he  happens  to  be  getting  on. 

1  felt  myself  to  be  getting  on  better  than  at  any  time 
since  the  last  wheat-harvest;  as  I  took  the  lane  to  Kensing- 
ton upon  the  Monday  evening.  For  although  no  time  was 
given  in  my  Lorna's  letter,  I  was  not  inclined  to  wait  more 
than  decency  required.  And  though  I  went  and  watched 
the  house,  decency  would  not  allow  me  to  knock  on  the 
Sunday  evening,  especially  when  I  found  at  the  corner  that 
his  lordship  was  at  home. 

The  lanes  and  fields  between  Charing  Cross  and  the 
village  of  Kensington  are,  or  were  at  that  time,  more  than 
reasonably  infested  with  footpads  and  "with  highwaymen. 
However,  my  stature  and  holly-club  kept  these  fellows  from 
doing  more  than  casting  sheep's  eyes  at  me.  For  it  was 
still  broad  daylight,  and  the  view  of  the  distant  villages, 
Chelsea,  Battersea,  Tyburn,  and  others,  as  well  as  a  few 
large  houses,  among  the  hams  and  toward  the  river,  made 
it  seem  less  lonely.  Therefore  I  sung  a  song  in  the  broad- 
est Exmoor  dialect,  which  caused  no  little  amazement  in 
the  minds  of  all  who  met  me. 

When  I  came  to  Earl  Brandir's  house,  my  natural 
modesty  forbade  me  to  appear  at  the  door  for  guests:  there- 
fore I  went  to  the  entrance  for  servants  and  retainers. 
Here,  to  my  great  surprise,  who  should  come  and  let  me 
in  but  little  Gwenny  Carfax,  whose  very  existence  had 
almost  escaped  my  recollection.  Her  mistress,  no  doubt, 
had  seen  me  coming,  and  sent  her  to  save  trouble.     But 


LORNA  STILL  IS  LORNA.  609 

when  I  offered  to  kiss  Gwenny,  in  my  joy  and  comfort  to 
see  a  farm-house  face  again,  she  looked  ashamed,  and 
turned  away,  and  would  hardly  speak  to  me. 

I  followed  her  to  a  little  room,  furnished  very  daintily, 
and  there  she  ordered  me  to  wait,  and  in  a  most  ungra- 
cious manner.  *'  Well,"  thought  I,  "  if  the  mistress  and 
the  maid  are  alike  in  temper,  better  it  had  been  for  me  to 
abide  at  Master  Ramsack's.''  But  almost  ere  my  thought 
was  done,  I  heard  the  light  quick  step  which  I  knew  as 
well  as  ''Watch,'*  my  dog,  knew  mine;  and  my  breast 
began  to  tremble,  like  the  trembling  of  an  arch  ere  the 
key-stone  is  put  in. 

Almost  ere  I  hoped — for  fear  and  hope  were  so  entangled 
that  they  hindered  one  another — the  velvet  hangings  of 
the  door- way  parted  with  a  little  doubt,  and  then  a  good 
face  put  on  it.  Lorna,  in  her  perfect  beauty,  stood  before 
the  crimson  folds,  and  her  dress  was  all  pure  white,  and 
her  cheeks  were  rosy  pink,  and  her  lips  were  scarlet. 

Like  a  maiden,  with  skill  and  sense  checking  violent  im- 
pulse, she  stayed  there  for  one  moment  only,  just  to  be  ad- 
mired: and  then,  like  a  woman,  she  came  to  me,  seeing 
how  alarmed  I  was.  The  hand  she  offered  me  I  took,  and 
raised  it  to  my  lips  with  fear,  as  a  thing  too  good  for  me. 
*'  Is  that  all?'*  she  whispered;  and  then  her  eyes  gleamed 
up  at  me,  and  in  another  instant  she  was  weeping  on  my 
breast. 

"  Darling  Loma,  Lady  Loma,**  I  cried,  in  astonishment, 
yet  unable  but  to  keep  her  closer  to  me,  and  closer; 
*'  surely,  though  I  love  you  so,  this  is  not  as  it  should  be." 

"Yes,  it  is,  John.  Yes,  it  is.  Nothing  else  should 
ever  be.     Oh,  why  have  you  behaved  so?" 

"  I  am  behaving,"  I  replied,  "  to  the  very  best  of  my 
ability.  There  is  no  other  man  in  the  world  could  hold 
you  so  without  kissing  you." 

*'Then  why  don't  you  do  it,  John?"  asked  Lorna,  look- 
ing up  at  me,  with  a  flash  of  her  old  fun. 

Now  this  matter,  proverbially,  is  not  for  discussion  and 
repetition.  Enough  that  we  said  nothing  more  than, 
*'  Oh,  John,  how  glad  I  am!"  and  *'  Lorna,  Lorna,  Lorna!" 
for  about  five  minutes.  Then  my  darling  drew  back 
proudly;  with  blushing  cheeks  and  tear-bright  eyes,  she 
began  to  cross  examine  me. 


^10  LORNA  DOONB. 

*'  Master  John  Ridd,  you  shall  tell  the  truth,  the  whole 
truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth.  I  have  been  in  Chan- 
cery, sir;  and  can  detect  a  story.  Xow  why  have  you 
never,  for  more  than  a  twelvemonth,  taken  the  smallest 
notice  of  your  old  friend,  Mistress  Lorna  Doone?"'  Al- 
though she  spoke  in  this  lightsome  manner,  as  if  it  made 
no  difference,  I  saw  that  her  quick  heart  was  moving,  and 
the  flash  of  her  eyes  controlled. 

*SSimply  for  this  cause,"  I  answered,  "that  my  old 
friend  and  true-love  took  not  the  smallest  heed  of  me. 
Nor  knew  I  where  to  find  her." 

"What!"  cried  Lorna,  and  nothing  more,  being  over- 
come with  wondering,  and  much  inclined  to  fall  away,  but 
for  my  assistance.  I  told  her,  over  and  over  again,  that 
not  a  single  syllable  of  any  message  from  her,  or  tidings  of 
her  welfare,  had  reached  me  or  any  one  of  us,  since  the 
letter  she  left  behind,  except  the  soldiers'  gossip. 

"Oh,  you  poor  dear  John!"  said  Lorna,  sighing  at 
thought  of  my  misery;  "  how  wonderfully  good  of  you, 
thinking  of  me  as  you  must  have  done,  not  to  marry  that 
little  plain  thing  (or  perhaps  I  should  say  that  lovely 
creature,  for  I  have  never  seen  her),  Mistress  Ruth — I 
forget  her  name;  but  something  like  a  towel." 

"  Ruth  Huckaback  is  a  worthy  maid,"  I  answered,  with 
some  dignity;  "and  she  alone  of  all  our  world,  except  in- 
deed poor  Annie,  has  kept  her  comfidence  in  you,  and  told 
me  not  to  dread  your  rank,  but  trust  your  heart.  Lady 
Lorna." 

"Then  Ruth  is  my  best  friend,"  she  answered,  "and  is 
worthy  of  you,  John.  And  now  remember  one  thing, 
dear;  if  God  should  part  us,  as  may  be  by  nothing  short 
of  death,  try  to  marry  that  little  Ruth  when  you  cease  to 
remember  me.  And  now  for  the  head-traitor.  I  have 
often  suspected  it;  but  she  looks  me  in  the  face  and  wishes 
— fearful  things,  which  I  can  not  repeat." 

AVith  these  words,  she  moved  an  implement  such  as  I 
had  not  seen  before,  and  which  made  a  ringing  noise  at  a 
serious  distance.  And  before  I  had  ceased  wondering — 
for  if  such  things  go  on,  we  might  ring  the  church  bells 
while  sitting  in  our  back  kitchen — little  Gwenny  Carfax 
came,  with  a  grave  and  sullen  face. 

"  Gwenny,"  began  my  Lorna,  in  a  tone  of  high  rank 


LORNA  STILL  18  LORNA.  611 

and  dignity,  *'  go  and  fetch  the  letters  which  I  gave  you 
at  various  times  for  dispatch  to  Mistress  Ridd." 

"  How  can  I  fetch  them  when  they  are  gone?  It  be  no 
use  for  him  to  tell  no  lies " 

**Now,  Gwenny,  can  you  look  at  me?"  I  asked,  very 
sternly;  for  the  matter  was  no  joke  to  me,  after  a  year's 
unhappiness. 

'*  I  don't  want  to  look  at  'ee.  What  should  I  look  at  a 
young  man  for,  although  he  did  offer  to  kiss  me?" 

I  saw  the  spite  and  impudence  of  this  last  remark;  and 
so  did  Lorna,  although  she  could  not  quite  refrain  from 
smiling. 

**Now,  Gwenny,  not  to  speak  of  that,"  said  Lorna,  very 
demurely,  "  if  you  thought  it  honest  to  keep  the  letters, 
was  it  honest  to  keep  the  money?" 

At  this  the  Cornish  maiden  broke  into  a  rage  of  honesty: 
"  A  putt  the  money  by  for  'ee.  'Ee  shall  have  every  farden 
of  it."    And  so  she  flun^  out  of  the  room. 

*'And,  Gwenny,"  said  Lorna,  very  softly,  following 
under  the  door-hangings;  '^if  it  is  not  honest  to  keep 
the  money,  it  is  not  honest  to  keep  the  letters,  which 
would  have  been  worth  more  than  any  gold  to  those  who 
were  so  kind  to  you.  Your  father  shall  know  the  whole, 
Gwenny,  unless  you  tell  the  truth." 

"  Now,  a  will  tell  all  the  truth,"  this  strange  maiden 
answered,  talking  to  herself  at  least  as  much  as  to  her  mis- 
tress, while  she  went  out  of  sight  and  hearing.  And  then 
I  was  so  glad  at  having  my  own  Lorna  once  again,  cleared 
of  all  contempt  for  us,  and  true  to  me  through  all  of  it, 
that  I  would  have  forgiven  Gwenny  for  treason,  or  even 
forgery. 

'*I  trusted  her  so  much,"  said  Lorna,  in  her  old  ill- 
fortuned  way;  "  and  look  how  she  has  deceived  me!  That 
is  why  I  love  you,  John  (setting  other  things  aside),  be- 
cause you  never  told  me  falsehood;  and  you  never  could, 
you  know." 

'*  Well,  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that.  I  think  I  could  tell 
any  lie,  to  have  you,  darling,  all  my  own." 

*^Yes.  And  perhaps  it  might  be  right.  To  other 
people  besides  us  two.  But  you  could  not  do  it  to  me, 
John.     You  never  could  do  it  to  me,  you  know." 

Before  I  could  quite  perceive  my  way  to  the  bottom  of 


Q12  LORNA  DOONE. 

this  distinction — although  beyond  doubt  a  valid  one — 
Gvvenny  came  back  with  a  leathern  bag,  and  tossed  it  upon 
the  table.  Not  a  word  did  she  vouchsafe  to  us;  but  stood 
there,  looking  injured. 

''  Go  and  get  your  letters,  John,"  said  Lorna,  very 
gravely;  ''or  at  least  your  mother's  letters,  made  of  mes- 
sages to  you.  As  for  Gwenny,  she  shall  go  before  Lord- 
Justice  Jeffreys."  I  knew  that  Lorna  meant  it  not,  but 
thought  that  the  girl  deserved  a  frightening,  as  indeed  she 
did.  But  we  both  mistook  the  courage  of  this  child  of 
Cornwall.  She  stepped  upon  a  little  round  thing  in  tlie 
nature  of  a  stool,  such  as  I  never  had  seen  before,  and  thus 
delivered  her  sentiments. 

''And  you  may  take  me,  if  you  please,  before  the  great 
Lord  Jefferays.  I  have  done  no  more  than  duty,  though  I 
did  it  crookedly,  and  told  a  heap  of  lies  for  your  sake. 
And  pretty  gratitude  I  gets." 

"Much  gratitude  you  have  shown,"  replied  Lorna,  "to 
Master  Ridd,  for  all  his  kindness  and  his  goodness  to  you. 
Who  was  it  that  went  down  at  the  peril  of  his  life,  and 
brought  your  father  to  you,  when  you  had  lost  him  for 
months  and  months?  Who  was  it?  Answer  me,  Gwenny!" 

"Girt  Jan  Ridd,"  said  the  handmaid,  very  sulkily. 

"  What  made  you  treat  me  so,  little  Gwenny?"  I  asked, 
for  Lorna  would  not  ask,  lest  the  reply  should  vex  me. 

"  Because  'ee  behest  below  her  so.  Her  shanna*  have  a 
poor  farmering  chap,  not  even  if  her  were  a  Carnishman. 
All  her  land,  and  all  her  birth — and  who  be  you,  I'd  like 
to  know?" 

"Gwenny,  you  may  go,"  said  Lorna,  reddening  with 
quiet  anger;  "and  remember  that  you  come  not  near  me 
for  the  next  three  days.  It  is  the  only  way  to  punish  her," 
she  continued  to  me,  when  the  maid  was  gone,  in  a  storm 
of  sobbing  and  weeping.  "Now  for  the  next  three  days 
she  will  scarcely  touch  a  morsel  of  food,  and  scarcely  do  a 
thing  but  cry.  Make  up  your  mind  to  one  thing,  John; 
if  you  mean  to  take  me,  for  better  for  worse,  you  will  have 
to  take  Gwenny  with  me." 

"I  would  take  you  with  fifty  Gwennies,"  said  I, 
"  although  every  one  of  them  hated  me,  which  I  do  not 
believe  this  little  maid  does,  in  the  bottom  of  her  heart." 

"  No  one  can  possibly  hate  you,  John,"  sh^  answered. 


LORNA  STILL  18  LORNA,  613 

very  softly;  and  I  was  better  pleased  with  this  than  if  she 
had  called  me  the  most  noble  and  glorious  man  in  the 
kingdom. 

After  this  we  spoke  of  ourselves,  and  the  way  people 
would  regard  us,  supposing  that  when  Lorna  came  to  be 
her  own  free  mistress  (as  she  must  do  in  the  course  of  time) 
she  were  to  throw  her  rank  aside,  and  refuse  her  title,  and 
caring  not  a  fig  for  folk  who  cared  less  than  a  fig-stalk  for 
her,  should  shape  her  mind  to  its  native  bent,  and  to  my 

ferfect  happiness.  It  was  not  my  place  to  say  much,  lest 
should  appear  to  use  an  improper  and  selfish  influence. 
And  of  course  to  all  men  of  common  sense,  and  to  every- 
body of  middle  age  (who  must  know  best  what  is  good  for 
youth),  the  thoughts  which  my  Lorna  entertained  would 
be  enough  to  prove  her  madness. 

Not  that  we  could  not  keep  her  well,  comfortably,  and 
with  nice  clothes,  and  plenty  of  flowers,  and  fruit,  and 
landscape,  and  the  knowledge  of  our  neighbors'  affairs, 
and  their  kind  interest  in  our  own.  Still  this  would  not 
be  as  if  she  were  the  owner  of  a  county,  and  a  haughty 
title,  and  able  to  lead  the  first  men  of  the  age  by  her  mind, 
and  face,  and  money. 

Therefore  was  I  quite  resolved  not  to  have  a  word  to  say 
while  this  young  queun  of  wealth  and  beauty,  and  of 
noblemen's  desire,  made  her  mind  up  how  to  act  for  her 
purest  happiness.  But  to  do  her  justice,  this  was  not  the 
first  thing  she  was  thinking  of;  the  test  of  her  judgment 
was  only  this:  "How  will  my  love  be  happiest?" 

"  Now,  John,"  she  cried,  for  she  was  so  quick  that 
she  always  had  my  thoughts  beforehand,  '^why  will  you 
be  backward,  as  if  you  cared  not  for  me?  Do  you  dream 
that  I  am  doubting?  My  mind  has  been  made  up,  good 
John,  that  you  must  be  my  husband  for — well,  I  will  not 
say  how  long,  lest  you  should  laugh  at  my  folly.  But  I 
believe  it  was  ever  since  you  came,  with  your  stockings  off, 
and  the  loaches.  Eight  early  for  me  to  make  up  my  mind; 
but  you  know  that  you  made  up  yours,  John,  and  of 
course  I  knew  it;  and  that  had  a  great  effect  on  me. 
Now,  after  all  this  age  of   loving,  shall  a  trifle  sever  us?" 

I  told  her  that  it  was  no  trifle,  but  a  most  important 
thing  to  abandon  wealth,  and  honor,  and  the  brilliance  of 
hig^li  life,  and  be  despised  by  every  one  for  such  abundant 


gl4  LORNA  DOONE. 

folly.  Moreover,  that  I  should  appear  a  knave  for  taking 
advantage  of  her  youth,  and  boundless  generosity,  and 
ruining  (as  men  would  say)  a  noble  maid  by  my  selfishness. 
And  I  told  her  outright,  having  worked  myself  up  by  my 
own  conversation,  that  she  was  bound  to  consult  her 
guardian,  and  that  without  his  knowledge  I  would  come 
no  more  to  see  her.  Her  flash  of  pride  at  these  last 
words  made  her  look  like  an  empress;  and  I  was  about  to 
explain  myself  better,  but  she  put  forth  her  hand  and 
stopped  me. 

*' I  think  that  condition  should  rather  have  proceeded 
from  me.  You  are  mistaken.  Master  Ridd,  in  supposing 
that  I  would  think  of  receiving  you  in  secret.  It  was  a 
different  thing  in  Glen  Doone,  where  all  except  yourself 
were  thieves,  and  when  I  was  but  a  simple  child,  and 
oppressed  with  constant  fear.  You  are  quite  right  in 
threatening  to  visit  me  thus  no  more;  but  I  think  you 
might  have  waited  for  an  invitation,  sir." 

**  And  you  are  quite  right.  Lady  Lorna,  in  pointing  out 
my  presumption.  It  is  a  fault  that  must  ever  be  found  in 
any  speech  of  mine  to  you." 

This  I  said  so  humbly,  and  not  with  any  bitterness — for 
I  knew  that  I  had  gone  too  far — and  made  her  so  polite  a 
bow,  that  she  forgave  me  in  a  moment,  and  we  begged 
each  other's  pardon. 

"Now,  will  you  allow  me  just  to  explain  my  own  view 
of  this  matter,  John?"  said  she.  "  Once  more  my  darling. 
It  may  be  a  very  foolish  view,  but  I  shall  never  change  it. 
Please  not  to  interrupt  me,  dear,  until  you  have  heard  me 
to  the  end.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  quite  certain  that 
neither  you  nor  I  can  be  happy  without  the  other. 
Then  what  stands  between  us?  Worldly  position,  and 
nothing  else.  I  have  no  more  education  than  you 
have,  John  Ridd;  nay,  and  not  so  much.  My  birth 
and  ancestry  are  not  one  whit  more  pure  than  yours, 
although  they  may  be  better  known.  Your  descent  from 
ancient  freeholders  for  five-and-twenty  generations  of  good, 
honest  men,  although  you  bear  no  coat  of  arms,  is  better 
than  the  lineage  of  nine  proud  English  noblemen  out  of 
every  ten  I  meet  with.  In  manners,  though  your  mightv 
strength,  and  hatred  of  any  meanness,  sometimes  break 
put  in  violence — of  which  I  must  try  to  cure  you,  dear — in 


LORN  A  STILL  IS  LORNA.  615 

manners,  if  kindness,  and  gentleness,  and  modesty  are  the 
true  things  wanted,  you  are  immeasurably  above  any  of 
our  court-gallants,  who  indeed  have  very  little.  As  for 
difference  of  religion,  we  allow  for  one  another,  neither 
having  been  brought  up  in  a  bitterly  pious  manner." 

Here,  though  the  tears  were  in  my  eyes  at  the  loving 
things  love  said  of  me,  I  could  not  help  a  little  laugh  at 
the  notion  of  any  bitter  piety  being  found  among  the 
Doones,  or  even  in  mother,  for  that  matter.  Lorna  smiled 
in  her  slyest  manner,  and  went  on  again. 

'^  Now,  you  see,  I  have  proved  my  point;  there  is  noth- 
ing between  us  but  worldly  position — if  you  can  defend  me 
against  the  Doones,  for  which,  I  trow,  I  may  trust  you. 
And  worldly  position  means  wealth,  and  title,  and  the 
right  to  be  in  great  houses,  and  the  pleasure  of  being 
envied.  I  have  not  been  here  for  a  year,  John,  without 
learning  something.  Oh,  I  hate  it;  how  I  hate  it!  Of  all 
the  people  I  know,  there  are  but  two  besides  my  uncle  who 
do  not  either  covet  or  detest  me.  And  who  are  those  two, 
think  you?" 

"  Gwenny,  for  one,"  I  answered. 

*'  Yes,  Gwenny  for  one,  and  the  Queen  for  the  other. 
The  one  is  too  far  below  me  (I  mean,  in  her  own  opinion), 
and  the  other  too  high  above.  As  for  the  women  who  dis- 
like me,  witliout  having  even  heard  my  voice,  I  simply 
have  nothing  to  do  with  them.  As  for  the  men  who  covet 
me  for  my  land  and  money,  I  merely  compare  them  with 
you,  John  Ridd,  and  all  thought  of  them  is  over.  Oh, 
John,  you  must  never  forsake  me,  however  cross  I  am  to 
you.  I  thought  you  would  have  gone  just  now;  and 
though  I  would  not  move  to  stop  you,  my  heart  would  have 
broken." 

"  You  don't  catch  me  going  in  a  hurry,"  I  answered,  very 
sensibly,  "  when  the  loveliest  maiden  in  the  world,  and  the 
best  and  the  dearest,  loves  me.  All  my  fear  of  you  is  gone, 
darling  Lorna,  all  my  fear " 

**  Is  it  possible  you  could  fear  me,  John,  after  all  we 
have  been  through  together?  Now  you  promised  not  to 
interrupt  me;  is  this  fair  behavior?  Well,  let  me  see 
v/here  I  left  off — oh,  that  my  heart  would  have  broken. 
Upon  that  point,  I  will  say  no  more,  lest  you  should  grow 
conceited,  John;  if  anything  could  make  you  so.     But  I 


616  LORNA  DOONK 

do  assure  you  that  half  Loudon— however,  upon  that  point 
also  I  will  check  my  power  of  speech,  lest  you  think  me 
conceited.  And  now  to  put  aside  all  nonsense;  though  I 
have  talked  none  for  a  year,  John,  having  been  so  unhappy; 
and  now  it  is  such  a  relief  to  me " 

"  Then  talk  it  for  an  hour,"  said  I;  ''and let  me  sit  and 
watch  you.  To  me  it  is  the  very  sweetest  of  all  sweetest 
wisdom." 

*'  Nay,  there  is  no  time,"  she  answered,  glancing  at  a 
jeweled  time-piece,  scarcely  larger  than  an  oyster,  which 
she  drew  from  near  her  waistband;  and  then  she  pushed  it 
away  in  confusion,  lest  its  wealth  should  startle  me.  *'  My 
uncle  will  come  home  in  less  than  half  an  hour,  dear,  and 
you  are  not  the  one  to  take  a  side-passage,  and  avoid  him. 
I  shall  tell  him  that  you  have  been  here,  and  that  I  mean 
you  to  come  again." 

As  Lorna  said  this,  with  a  manner  as  confident  as  need 
be,  I  saw  that  she  had  learned  in  town  the  power  of  her 
beauty,  and  knew  that  she  could  do  with  most  men  aught 
she  set  her  mind  upon.  And  as  she  stood  there,  flushed 
with  pride  and  faith  in  her  own  loveliness,  and  radiant 
with  the  love  itself,  I  felt  that  she  must  do  exactly  as  she 
pleased  with  every  one.  For  now,  in  turn,  and  elegance, 
and  richness,  and  variety,  there  was  nothing  to  compare 
with  her  face,  unless  it  were  her  figure.  Therefore  1  gave 
in,  and  said: 

**  Darling,  do  just  what  you  please.  Only  make  no 
rogue  of  me." 

For  that  she  gave  me  the  simplest,  kindest,  and  sweetest 
of  all  kisses;  and  I  went  down  the  stairs  grandly,  thinking 
of  nothing  else  but  that. 


JOHN  IB  JOHN  NO  LONGER.  617 


CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

JOHN   IS  JOHN   NO   LONGER. 

It  would  be  hard  for  me  to  tell  the  state  of  mind  in 
which  I  lived  for  a  long  time  after  this.  I  put  away  from 
me  all  torment,  and  the  thoughts  of  future  cares,  and  the 
sight  of  difficulty,  and  to  myself  appeared;  which  means 
that  I  became  the  luckiest  of  lucky  fellows  since  the  world 
itself  began.  I  thought  not  of  the  harvest  even,  nor  of  the 
men  who  would  get  their  wages  without  having  earned 
them,  nor  of  my  mother's  anxiety  and  worry  about  John 
Fry's  great  fatness  (which  was  growing  upon  him),  and 
how  she  would  cry  fifty  times  in  a  day,  **  Ah,  if  our  John 
would  only  come  home,  how  different  everything  would 
look!" 

Although  there  were  no  soldiers  now  quartered  at  Plo- 
vers Barrows,  all  being  busied  in  harassing  the  country,  and 
hanging  the  people  where  the  rebellion  had  thriven  most, 
my  mother,  having  received  from  me  a  message  containing 
my  place  of  abode,  contrived  to  send  me  by  the  jmck-horses  as 
fine  a  maund  as  need  be  of  provisions,  and  money,  and  other 
comforts.  Therein  I  found  addressed  to  Colonel  Jeremiah 
Stickles,  in  Lizzie's  best  handwriting,  half  a  side  of  the 
dried  deer's  flesh,  in  which  he  rejoiced  so  greatly.  Also, 
for  Lorna,  a  fine  green  goose,  with  a  little  salt  toward  the 
tail,  and  new-laid  eggs  inside  it,  as  well  as  a  bottle  of 
brandied  cherries,  and  seven,  or  it  may  have  been  eight, 
pounds  of  fresh  home-made  butter.  Moreover,  to  myself 
there  was  a  letter  full  of  good  advice,  excellently  well  ex- 
pressed, and  would  have  been  of  the  greatest  value,  if  I  had 
cared  to  read  it.  But  I  read  all  about  the  farm  affairs,  and 
the  man  who  had  offered  himself  to  our  Betty  for  the  five 
pounds  in  her  stocking,  as  well  as  the  antics  of  Sally 
Snowe,  and  how  she  had  almost  thrown  herself  at  Parson 
Bowden's  head  (old  enough  to  be  her  grandfather),  because 


513  LORNA  DOONE. 

on  the  Sunday  after  the  hanging  of  a  Coiintisbury  man  he 
had  preached  a  beautiful  sermon  about  Christian  love; 
which  Lizzie,  with  her  sharp  eyes,  found  to  be  the  work  of 
good  Bishop  Ken.  Also  I  read  that  the  Doones  were 
quiet;  the  parishes  round  about  having  united  to  feed 
them  well  through  the  harvest-time,  so  that  after  the  day's 
hard  work  the  farmers  might  go  to  bed  at  night.  And  this 
plan  had  been  found  to  answer  well,  and  to  save  much 
trouble  on  both  sides;  so  that  everybody  wondered  why  it 
had  not  been  done  before.  But  Lizzie  thought  that  the 
Doones  could  hardly  be  expected  much  longer  to  put  up 
with  it,  and  probably  would  not  have  done  so  now,  but  for 
a  little  adversity;  to-wit,  that  the  famous  Colonel  Kirke 
had,  in  the  most  outrageous  manner,  hanged  no  less  than 
six  of  them,  who  were  captured  among  the  rebels;  for  he  said 
that  men  of  their  rank  and  breeding,  and  above  all  of  their 
religion,  should  have  known  better  than  to  join  plow-boys, 
and  carters,  and  pick-ax  men,  against  our  Lord  the  King, 
and  his  holy  Holiness  the  Pope.  This  hanging  of  so  many 
Doones  caused  some  indignation  among  people  who  were 
used  to  them;  and  it  seemed  for  a  while  to  check  the  rest 
from  any  spirit  of  enterprise. 

Moreover,  I  found  from  this  same  letter  (which  was 

f)inned  upon  the  knuckle  of  aleg  of  mutton,  for  fear  of  being 
ost  in  straw)  that  good  Tom  Faggus  was  at  home  again, 
and  nearly  cured  of  his  dreadful  wound;  but  intended  to 
go  to  war  no  more,  only  to  mind  his  family.  And  it 
grieved  him  more  than  anything  he  ever  could  have  im- 
agined, that  his  duty  to  his  family,  and  the  strong  power 
of  his  conscience,  so  totally  forbade  him  to  come  up  and 
see  after  me.  For  now  his  design  was  to  lead  a  new  life, 
and  be  in  charity  with  all  men.  Many  better  men  than  he 
had  been  hanged,  he  saw  no  cause  to  doubt;  but  by  the 
grace  of  God  he  hoped  himself  to  cheat  the  gallows. 

There  was  no  further  news  of  moment  in  this  very  clever 
letter,  except  that  the  price  of  horses'  shoes  was  gone  up 
again,  though  already  twopence-farthing  each,  and  that 
Betty  had  broken  her  lover's  head  with  the  stocking  full 
of  money;  and  then  in  the  corner  it  was  written  that  the 
distinguished  man  of  war,  and  worshipful  scholar.  Master 
Bloxham,  was  now  promoted  to  take  the  tolls,  and  catch 
ftU  the  rebels  around  our  part. 


JOBir  IS  JOBK  m  LOKGEH.  619 

Lorna  was  greatly  pleased  with  the  goose,  and  the  butter> 
and  the  brandied  cherries;  and  the  Earl  Brandir  himself 
declared  that  he  had  never  tasted  better  than  those  last,  and 
would  beg  the  young  man  from  the  country  to  procure  him 
instructions  for  making  them.  This  nobleman  being  as 
deaf  as  a  post,  and  of  a  very  solid  mind,  could  never  be 
brought  to  understand  the  nature  of  my  thoughts  toward 
Lorna.  He  looked  upon  me  as  an  excellent  youth,  who 
had  rescued  the  maiden  from  the  Doones,  whom  he  cor- 
dially detested,  and  learning  that  I  had  thrown  two  of 
them  out  of  window  (as  the  story  was  told  him),  he 
patted  me  on  the  back,  and  declared  that  his  doors  would 
ever  be  open  to  me,  and  that  I  could  not  come  too  often. 

I  thought  this  very  kind  of  his  lordship,  especially  as  it 
enabled  me  to  see  my  darling  Lorna,  not  indeed  as  often  as 
I  wished,  but  at  any  rate  very  frequently,  and  as  many 
times  as  modesty  (ever  my  leading  principle)  would  in 
common  conscience  approve  of.  And  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  if  ever  I  could  help  Earl  Brandir,  it  would  be — as  we 
say,  when  with  brandy-and-water — the  ''proudest  moment 
of  my  life  "  when  I  could  fulfill  the  pledge. 

And  I  soon  was  able  to  help  Lord  Brandir,  as  I  think,  in 
two  different  ways;  first  of  all  as  regarded  his  mind,  and 
then  as  concerned  his  body;  and  the  latter,  perhaps,  wa^ 
the  greatest  service  at  his  time  of  life.  But  not  to  be  too 
nice  about  that,  let  me  tell  how  these  things  were. 

Lorna  said  to  me  one  day,  being  in  a  state  of  excite^ 
ment — whereto  she  was  overprone,  when  reft  by  ray  slow- 
ness to  steady  her. 

"  I  will  tell  him,  John;  I  must  tell  him,  John.  It  is 
mean  of  me  to  conceal  it.** 

I  thought  that  she  meant  all  about  our  love,  which 
we  had  endeavored  thrice  to  drill  into  his  fine  old  ears, 
but  could  not  make  him  comprehend,  without  risk  of 
bringing  the  house  down;  and  so  I  said,  "By  all  means, 
darling:  have  another  try  at  it." 

Lorna,  however,  looked  at  me — for  her  eyes  told  more 
than  tongue — as  much  as  to  say,  ''Well,  you  are  a 
stupid.  We  agreed  to  let  that  subject  rest.**  And  then 
she  saw  that  I  was  vexed  at  my  own  want  of  quickness; 
and  so  she  spoke  very  kindly. 

I  meant  about  his  poor  son,  dearest — the  son  of  his 


a 


Q20  LOUiTA  DOONE. 

old  age  almost — whose  loss  threw  him  into  that  dreadful 
cold,  for  he  went,  without  hat,  to  look  for  him,  which 
ended  in  his  losing  the  use  of  his  dear  old  ears.  I  believe 
if  we  could  only  get  him  to  Plovers  Barrows  for  a  month 
he  would  be  able  to  hear  again.  And  look  at  his  age!  He 
is  not  much  over  seventy,  John,  you  know;  and  I  hope 
that  you  will  be  able  to  hear  me  long  after  you  are  seventy, 
John.^' 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  God  settles  that,  or  at  any  rate  He 
leaves  us  time  to  think  about  those  questions  when  we  are 
over  fifty.  Now  let  me  know  what  you  want,  Lorna. 
The  idea  of  my  being  seventy!  But  you  woul&  still  be 
beautiful.'' 

"To  the  one  who  loves  me,'' she  answered,  trying  to 
make  wrinkles  in  her  pure  bright  forehead.  '*  But  if  you 
will  have  common  sense — as  you  always  will,  John,  whether 
I  wish  it  or  otherwise — I  want  to  know  whether  I  am 
bound,  in  honor  and  in  conscience,  to  tell  my  dear  and 
good  old  uncle  what  I  know  about  his  son?" 

'*  First,  let  me  understand  quite  clearly,"  said  I,  never 
being  in  a  hurry,  except  when  passion  moves  me,  '^  what 
his  lordship  thinks  at  present,  and  how  far  his  mind  is 
urged  with  sorrow  and.  anxiety."  This  was  not  the  first 
time  we  had  spoken  of  the  matter. 

*'  Why  you  know,  John,  well  enough,"  she  answered, 
wondering  at  my  coolness,  *'that  my  poor  uncle  still  be- 
lieves that  his  one  beloved  son  will  come  to  light  and  life 
again.  He  has  made  all  arrangements  accordingly;  all  his 
property  is  settled  on  that  supposition.  He  knows  that 
young  Alan  always  was  what  he  calls  a  *  freckless  ne'er-do- 
weel;'  but  he  loves  him  all  the  more  for  that.  He  cannot 
believe  that  he  will  die  without  his  son  coming  back  to 
him,  and  he  always  has  a  bedroom  ready,  and  a  bottle  of 
Alan's  favorite  wine  cool  from  out  the  cellar;  he  has  made 
me  work  him  a  pair  of  slippers  from  the  size  of  a  moldy 
boot;  and  if  he  hears  of  a  new  tobacco,  much  as  he  hates 
the  smell  of  it,  he  will  go  to  the  other  end  of  London  to 
get  some  for  Alan.  Now  you  know  how  deaf  he  is;  but  if 
any  one  says  *  Alan,'  even  in  the  place  outside  the  door,  he 
will  make  his  courteous  bow  to  the  very  highest  visitor, 
and  be  out  there  in  a  moment,  and  search  the  entire  pas- 
eagC;  and  yet  let  no  one  know  it." 


JOHN  IS  JOHN  NO  LONOEX  bxJl 

"  It  is  a  piteous  thiug,"  I  said,  for  Lorna's  eyes  were  full 
of  tears. 

'*  And  he  means  me  to  marry  him.  It  is  the  pet  scheme 
of  his  life.  I  am  to  grow  more  beautiful,  and  more  highly 
taught,  and  graceful,  until  it  pleases  Alan  to  come  back 
and  demand  me.  Can  you  understand  this  matter,  John? 
Or  do  you  think  my  uncle  mad?" 

**  Lorna,  I  should  be  mad  myself  to  call  any  other  man 
mad  for  hoping." 

"  Then  will  you  tell  me  what  to  do?  It  makes  me  very 
sorrowful.  For  I  know  that  Alan  Brandir  lies  below  the 
sod  in  Doone- valley." 

"  And  if  you  tell  his  father,"  I  answered  softly,  but 
clearly,  **  in  a  few  weeks  he  will  lie  below  the  sod  in 
London — at  least,  if  there  is  any." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,  John,"  she  replied.  "To  lose 
hope  must  be  a  dreadful  thing  when  one  is  turned  of  sev- 
enty, therefore  I  will  never  tell  him." 

The  other  way  in  which  I  managed  to  help  the  good 
Earl  Brandir  was  of  less  true  moment  to  him;  but  as  he 
could  not  know  of  the  first,  this  was  the  one  which  moved 
him.  And  it  happened  pretty  much  as  follows,  though  I 
hardly  like  to  tell,  because  it  advanced  me  to  such  a  height 
as  I  myself  was  giddy  at,  and  which  all  my  friends  re- 
sented greatly  (save  those  of  my  own  family),  and  even 
now  are  sometimes  bitter,  in  spite  of  all  my  humility. 
Now,  this  is  a  matter  of  history,  because  the  King  was 
concerned  in  it;  and  being  so  strongly  misunderstood,  es- 
pecially in  my  own  neighborhood,  I  will  overcome,  so  far 
as  I  can,  my  diffidence  in  telling  it. 

The  good  Earl  Brandir  was  a  man  of  the  noblest  charity. 
True  charity  begins  at  home,  and  so  did  his;  and  was 
afraid  of  losing  the  way,  if  it  went  abroad.  So  this  good 
nobleman  kept  his  money  in  a  handsome  pewter  box,  with 
his  coat  of  arms  upon  it,  and  a  double  lid  and  locks. 
Moreover,  there  was  a  heavy  chain,  fixed  to  a  staple  in  the 
wall,  so  that  none  might  carry  off  the  pewter  with  the  gold 
inside  of  it.  Lorna  told  me  the  box  was  full,  for  she  had 
seen  him  go  to  it;  and  she  often  thought  that  it  would  be 
nice  for  us  to  begin  the  world  with.  I  told  her  that  she 
must  not  allow  her  mind  to  dwell  upon  things  of  this  sort, 
being  wholly  against  the  last  commandment  set  up  in  our 
church  at  Oare. 


^22  LORNA  TfOONB. 

Now  one  evening  toward  September,  when  the  days  were 
drawing  in,  looking  back  at  the  house  to  see  whether 
Lorna  were  looking  after  me,  I  espied  (by  a  little  glimpse, 
as  it  were)  a  pair  of  villainous  fellows  (about  whom  there 
could  be  no  mistake)  watching  from  the  thicket-corner, 
some  hundred  yards  or  so  behind  the  good  Earl's  dwelling. 
''  There  is  mischief  afoot,"  thought  I  to  myself,  being 
thoroughly  conversant  with  theft,  from  my  knowledge  of 
the  Doones;  "  how  will  be  the  moon  to-night,  and  when 
may  we  expect  the  watch?'' 

I  found  that  neither  moon  nor  watch  could  be  looked 
for  until  the  morning;  the  moon,  of  course,  before  the 
watch,  and  more  likely  to  be  punctual.  Therefore  I 
resolved  to  wait  and  see  what  those  two  villains  did,  and 
save  ^if  it  were  possible)  the  Earl  of  Brandir's  pewter  box. 
But  inasmuch  as  those  bad  men  were  almost  sure  to 
have  seen  me  leaving  the  house  and  looking  back,  and 
striking  out  on  the  London  road,  I  marched  along  at  a 
merry  pace,  until  they  could  not  discern  me;  and  then  I 
fetched  a  compass  round,  and  refreshed  myself  at  a  certain 
inn,  entitled  *^The  Cross-bones  and  Buttons." 

Here  I  remained  until  it  was  very  nearly  as  dark  as 
pitch;  and  the  house  being  full  of  foot-pads  and  cut- 
throats, I  thought  it  right  to  leave  them.  One  or  two 
came  after  me,  in  the  hope  of  designing  a  stratagem,  but 
I  dropped  them  in  the  darkness;  and  knowing  all  the 
neighborhood  well,  I  took  up  my  position,  two  hours 
before  midnight,  among  the  shrubs  at  the  eastern  end  of 
Lord  Brandir's  mansion.  Hence,  although  I  might  not 
see,  I  could  scarcely  fail  to  hear  if  any  unlawful  entrance, 
either  at  back  or  front,  were  made. 

From  my  own  observation,  I  thought  it  likely  that  the 
attack  would  be  in  the  rear;  and  so,  indeed,  it  came  to 
pass.  For  when  all  the  lights  were  quenched,  and  all  the 
house  was  quiet,  I  heard  a  low  and  wily  whistle  from  a 
clump  of  trees  close  by;  and  then  three  figures  passed 
between  me  and  a  whitewashed  wall,  and  came  to  a  window 
which  opened  into  a  part  of  the  servants'  basement.  This 
window  was  carefully  raised  by  some  one  inside  the  house; 
and  after  a  little  whispering,  and  something  which  sounded 
like  a  kiss,  all  the  three  men  entered. 

''  Oh,  you  villainsr  I  said  to  myself,  "  this  is  worse  thau 


JOBK  IS  JOBir  NO  LONOER  623 

any  Doone  job,  because  there  is  treacliery  in  \i"  But 
without  waiting  to  consider  the  subject  from  a  moral  point 
of  view,  I  crept  along  the  wall,  and  entered  very  quietly 
after  them;  being  rather  uneasy  about  my  life,  because  1 
bore  no  fire-arms  and  had  nothing  more  than  my  holly- 
statf  for  even  a  violent  combat. 

To  me  this  was  matter  of  deep  regret,  as  I  followed  these 
vile  men  inward.  Nevertheless  I  was  resolved  that  my 
Lorna  should  not  be  robbed  again.  Through  us  (or  at 
least  through  our  Annie)  she  had  lost  that  brilliant  neck- 
lace, which  then  was  her  only  birthright;  therefore  it 
behooved  me  doubly  to  preserve  the  pewter  box,  which 
must  belong  to  her  in  the  end,  unless  the  thieves  got  hold 
of  it. 

I  went  along  very  delicately  (as  a  man  who  has  learned  to 
wrestle  can  do,  although  he  may  weigh  twenty  stone),  follow- 
ing carefully  the  light  brought  by  the  traitorous  maid,  and 
shaking  in  her  loose,  dishonest  hand.  I  saw  her  lead  the 
men  into  a  little  place  called  a  pantry;  and  there  she  gave 
them  cordials,  and  I  could  hear  them  boasting. 

Not  to  be  too  long  over  it — which  they  were  much  in- 
clined to  be — I  followed  them  from  this  drinking-bout,  by 
the  aid  of  the  light  they  bore,  as  far  as  Earl  Brandir's  bed- 
room, which  1  knew,  because  Lorna  had  shown  it  to  me, 
that  I  might  admire  the  tapestry.  But  I  had  said  that  no 
horse  could  ever  be  shod  as  the  horses  were  shod  therein, 
unless  he  had  the  foot  of  a  frog,  as  well  as  a  frog  to  his 
foot.  And  Lorna  had  been  vexed  at  this  (as  taste  and  high 
art  always  are  at  any  small  accurate  knowledge),  and  so 
she  had  brought  me  out  again  before  I  had  time  to  admire 
things. 

Now,  keeping  well  away  in  the  dark,  yet  nearer  than  was 
necessary  to  my  own  dear  Lorna's  room,  I  saw  these  fel- 
lows try  the  door  of  the  good  Earl  Brandir,  knowing  from 
the  maid,  of  course,  that  his  lordship  could  hear  nothing 
except  the  name  of  Alan.  They  tried  the  lock,  and  pushed 
at  it,  and  even  set  their  knees  upright;  but  a  Scottish  noble- 
man may  be  trusted  to  secure  his  door  at  night.  So  they 
were  forced  to  break  it  open;  and  at  this  the  guilty  maid 
or  woman,  ran  away.  These  three  rogues— for  rogues  they 
were,  and  no  charity  may  deny  it— burst  into  Earl  Bran- 
dir's room  with  a  light,  and  a  crowbar,  and  fire-arms.     I 


624  LORNA  DOONK 

thought  to  myself  that  this  was  hard  upon  an  honest  noble- 
man, and  if  further  mischief  could  be  saved,  I  would  try 
to  save  it. 

When  I  came  to  the  door  of  the  room,  being  myself  in 
shadow,  I  beheld  two  bad  men  trying  vainly  to  break  open 
the  pewter  box,  and  the  third  with  a  pistol-muzzle  laid  to 
the  night-cap  of  his  lordship.  With  foul  face  and  yet 
fouler  words,  this  man  was  demanding  the  key  of  the  box, 
which  the  other  men  could  by  no  means  open,  neither  drag 
it  from  the  chain. 

''I  tell  you,"  said  this  aged  Earl,  beginning  to  under- 
stand at  last  what  these  rogues  were  up  for,  *•  I  will  give 
no  key  to  you.  It  all  belongs  to  my  boy,  Alan.  No  one 
else  shall  have  a  farthing." 

*'  Then  you  may  count  your  moments,  lord.  The  key  is 
in  your  old  cramped  hand.  One,  two;  and  at  three  I 
shoot  you.'' 

I  saw  that  the  old  man  was  abroad;  not  with  fear,  but 
with  great  wonder,  and  the  regrets  of  deafness.  And  I 
saw  that  rather  would  he  be  shot  than  let  these  men  go  rob 
his  son,  buried  now,  or  laid  to  bleach  in  the  tangles  of  the 
wood,  three,  or  it  might  be  four  years  agone,  but  still  alive 
to  his  father.  Hereupon  my  heart  was  moved,  and  I  re- 
solved to  interfere.  The  thief  with  the  pistol  began  to 
count,  as  I  crossed,  the  floor  very  quietly,  while  the  old  Earl 
fearfully  gazed  at  the  muzzle,  but  clenched  still  tighter  his 
wrinkled  hand.  The  villain,  with  hair  all  over  his  eyes, 
and  the  great  horse-pistol  leveled,  cried  "  three,"  and 
pulled  the  trigger;  but  luckily,  at  that  very  moment,  I 
struck  up  the  barrel  with  my  staff,  so  that  the  shot  pierced 
the  tester,  and  then  with  a  spin  and  a  thwack  I  brought 
the  good  holly  down  upon  the  rascal's  head  in  a  manner 
which  stretched  him  upon  the  floor. 

Meanwhile  the  other  two  robbers  had  taken  the  alarm, 
and  rushed  at  me,  one  with  a  pistol  and  one  with  a  hanger, 
which  forced  me  to  be  very  lively.  Fearing  the  pistol  most,  I 
flung  the  heavy  velvet  curtain  of  the  bed  across,  that  he 
might  not  see  where  to  aim  at  me,  and  then  stooping  very 
quickly,  I  caught  up  the  senseless  robber,  and  set  him  up  for 
a  shield  and  target;  whereupon  he  was  shot  immediately, 
without  having  the  pain  of  knowing  it;  and  a  happy  thing 
it  was  for  him.     Now  the  other  two  were  at  my  mercy,  being 


JOBir  T3  JOHN  NO  LONQEB,  625 

men  below  the  average  strength;  and  no  hanger,  except  in 
most  skillful  hands,  as  well  as  firm  and  strong  ones,  has 
any  chance  to  a  powerful  man  armed  with  a  stout  cudgel, 
and  thoroughly  practiced  in  single-stick. 

So  I  took  these  two  rogues,  and  bound  them  together; 
and  leaving  them  under  charge  of  the  butler  (a  worthy  and 
shrewd  Scotchman),  I  myself  went  in  search  of  the'  con- 
stable, whom,  after  some  few  hours,  I  found;  neither  were 
they  so  drunk  but  what  they  could  take  roped  men  to  prison. 
In  the  morning  these  two  men  were  brought  before  the 
justices  of  the  peace.  And  now  my  wonderful  luck  ap- 
peared; for  the  merit  of  having  defeated  and  caught  them 
would  never  have  raised  me  one  step  in  the  State,  or  in 
public  consideration,  if  they  had  only  been  common  rob- 
bers, or  even  notorious  murderers.  But  when  these  fellows 
were  recognized  by  some  one  in  the  court  as  Protestant 
witnesses  out  of  employment,  companions  and  understrap- 
pers to  Oates,  and  Bedloe,  and  Carstairs,  and  hand  in  glove 
with  Dangerfield,  Turberville  and  Dugdale — in  a  word,  the 
very  men  against  whom  His  Majesty  the  King  bore  the 
bitterest  rancor,  but  whom  he  had  hitherto  failed  to  catch — 
when  this  was  laid  before  the  public  (with  emphasis  and  ad- 
miration), at  least  a  dozen  men  came  up  whom  I  had  never 
seen  before,  and  prayed  me  to  accept  their  congratulations, 
and  to  be  sure  to  remember  them;  for  all  were  of  neglected 
merit,  and  required  no  more  than  a  piece  of  luck. 

I  answered  them  very  modestly,  and  each  according  to 
his  worth,  as  stated  by  himself,  who  of  course  could  judge 
the  best.  The  magistrate  made  me  many  compliments, 
ten  times  more  than  I  deserved,  and  took  good  care  to  have 
them  copied,  that  His  Majesty  might  see  them.  And  eie 
the  case  was  thoroughly  heard,  and  those  poor  fellows  were 
committed,  more  than  a  score  of  generous  men  had  offered 
to  lend  me  a  hundred  pounds,  wherewith  to  buy  a  new 
court  suit  when  called  before  His  Majesty. 

Now  this  may  seem  very  strange  to  us  who  live  in  abetter 
and  purer  age — or  say  at  least  that  we  do  so — and  yet  who 
are  we  to  condemn  our  fathers  for  teaching  us  better  man- 
ners, and  at  their  own  expense?  With  these  points  any 
virtuous  man  is  bound  to  deal  quite  tenderly,  making  al- 
lowance for  corruption,  and  not  being  too  sure  of  himself. 
And  to  tell  the  truth,  although  I  had  seen  so  little  of  the 


e^^  LOnNA  DOOKE. 

world  as  yet,  that  which  astonished  me  in  the  mattef  was 
not  so  much  that  they  paid  me  court,  as  that  they  found 
out  so  soon  the  expediency  of  doing  it. 

In  the  course  of  that  same  afternoon  I  was  sent  for  by 
His  Majesty.  He  had  summoned  first  the  good  Earl  Bran- 
dir,  and  received  the  tale  from  him,  not  without  exaggera- 
tion, although  my  lord  was  a  Scotchman.  But  the  chief 
thing  His  Majesty  cared  to  know  was  that,  beyond  all  pos- 
sible doubt,  these  were  the  very  precious  fellows  from  per- 
jury turned  to  robbery. 

Being  fully  assured  at  last  of  this.  His  Majesty  had 
rubbed  his  hands,  and  ordered  the  boots  of  a  stricter  pat- 
tern (which  he  himself  had  invented)  to  be  brought  at 
once,  that  he  might  have  them  in  the  best  possible  order. 
And  he  oiled  them  himself,  and  expressed  his  fear  that 
there  was  no  man  in  London  quite  competent  to  work 
them.  Nevertheless  he  would  try  one  or  two,  rather  than 
wait  for  his  pleasure  till  the  torturer  came  from  Edinburgh. 

The  next  thing  he  did  was  to  send  for  me;  and  in  great 
alarm  and  flurry  I  put  on  my  best  clothes,  and  hired  a  fash- 
ionable hair-dresser,  and  drank  a  half  gallon  of  ale,  because 
both  my  hands  were  shaking.  Then  forth  I  set,  with  my 
holly  staff,  wishing  myself  well  out  of  it.  I  was  shown  at 
once,  and  before  I  desired  it,  into  His  Majesty^s  presence; 
and  there  I  stood  most  humbly,  and  made  the  best  bow  I 
could  think  of. 

As  I  could  not  advance  any  further — for  I  saw  that  the 
Queen  was  present,  which  frightened  me  tenfold — His 
Majesty,  in  the  most  gracious  manner,  came  down  the 
room  to  encourage  me.  And  as  I  remained  with  my  head 
bent  down,  he  told  me  to  stand  up  and  look  at  him. 

'^I  have  seen  thee  before,  young  man,"  he  said;  "thy 
form  is  not  one  to  be  forgotten.  Where  was  it?  Thou  art 
most  likely  to  know." 

"  May  it  please  Your  Most  Gracious  Majesty  the  King," 
1  answered,  finding  my  voice  in  a  manner  which  surprised 
myself,  "it  was  in  the  Royal  Chapel." 

Now  I  meant  no  harm  whatever  by  this.  I  ought  to 
have  said  the  "  Antechapel;"  but  I  could  not  remember 
the  word,  and  feared  to  keep  the  King  looking  at  me. 

^^'I  am  well  pleased,"  said  his  Majesty,  with  a  smile 
which  almost  made  his  dark  and  stubborn  face  look  pleasant, 


JOHN  IS  JOHN  NO  LONGER.  627 

'*  to  find  that  our  greatest  subject,  greatest,  I  mean,  in  the 
bodily  form,  is  a  good  Catholic.  Thou  needest  not  say 
otherwise.  The  time  shall  be,  and  that  right  soon,  when 
men  shall  be  proud  of  the  one  true  faith.''  Here  he 
stopped,  having  gone  rather  far;  but  the  gleam  of  his 
heavy  eyes  was  such  that  I  durst  not  contradict. 

*'This  is  that  great  Johann  Reed,''  said  Her  Majesty, 
coming  forward,  because  the  King  was  in  meditation,  **for 
whom  I  have  so  much  heard  from  the  dear,  dear  Lorna. 
Ah!  she  is  not  of  this  black  countree,  she  of  the  breet 
Italic." 

I  have  tried  to  write  it  as  she  said  it,  but  it  wants  a 
better  scholar  to  express  her  mode  of  speech. 

**  Now,  John  Ridd,"  said  the  King,  recovering  from  his 
thoughts  about  the  true  Church,  and  thinking  that  his 
wife  was  not  to  take  the  lead  upon  me;  **  thou  hast  done 
great  service  to  the  realm,  and  to  religion.  It  was  good  to 
save  Earl  Brandir,  a  loyal  and  Catholic  nobleman;  but  it 
was  great  service  to  catch  two  of  the  vilest  bloodhounds 
ever  laid  on  by  heretics.  And  to  make  them  shoot  another, 
it  was  rare;  it  was  rare,  my  lad.  Now  ask  us  anything  in 
reason;  thou  canst  carry  any  honors  on  thy  club  like  Her- 
cules.    What  is  thy  chief  ambition,  lad?" 

'^  Well,"  said  I,  after  thinking  a  little,  and  meaning  to 
make  the  most  of  it,  for  so  the  Queen's  eyes  conveyed  to 
me,  *' my  mother  always  used  to  think  that  having  been 
schooled  at  Tiverton,  with  thirty  marks  a  year  to  pay,  I 
was  worthy  of  a  coat  of  arms.  And  that  is  what  she  longs 
for." 

'"  A  good  lad!  A  very  good  lad,"  said  the  King,  and  he 
looked  at  the  Queen  as  if  almost  in  a  joke;  ^'  but  what  is  thy 
condition  in  life?" 

*'  I  am  a  freeholder,"  I  answered,  in  my  confusion,  "  ever 
since  the  time  of  King  Alfred.  A  Ridd  was  with  him  in 
the  isle  of  Athelney,  and  we  hold  our  farm  by  gift  from 
him,  or  at  least  people  say  so.  We  have  had  three  very 
good  harvests  running,  and  might  support  a  coat  of  arms; 
but  foi  myself  I  want  it  not." 

"  Thou  shalt  have  a  coat,  my  lad,"  said  the  King,  smil- 
ing at  his  own  humor;  "  but  it  must  be  a  large  one  to  fit 
thee.  And  more  than  that  shalt  thou  have,  John  Ridd, 
being  of  such  loyal  breed,  and  having  done  such  service." 


628  LORNA  DOOl^E. 

And  while  I  wondered  what  he  meant,  he  called  to  some 
of  the  people  in  waiting  at  the  further  end  of  the  room, 
and  they  brought  him  a  little  sword,  such  as  Annie  would 
skewer  a  turkey  with.  Then  he  signified  to  me  to  kneel, 
which  I  did,  (after  dusting  the  board,  for  the  sake  of  my 
best  breeches),  and  then  he  gave  me  a  little  tap  very  nicely, 
upon  my  shoulder  before  I  knew  what  he  was  up  to,  and 
said,  "Arise,  Sir  John  Ridd!" 

This  astonished  and  amazed  me  to  such  extent  of  loss  of 
mind,  that  when  I  got  up  I  looked  about,  and  thought 
what  the  Snowes  would  think  of  it.  And  I  said  to  the 
King,  without  forms  of  speech: 

''  Sir,  I  am  very  much  obliged.  But  what  be  I  to  do 
with  it?" 


NOT  TO  BE  PUT  UP  WITH.  629 


CHAPTER  LXIX. 

NOT  TO   BE   PUT  UP  WITH. 

The  coat  of  arms  devised  for  me  by  the  Royal  heralds 
was  of  great  size  and  rich  colors,  and  full  of  bright  imag- 
ings.  They  did  me  the  honor  to  consult  me  first,  and  to 
take  no  notice  of  my  advice.  For  I  begged  that  there 
might  be  a  good-sized  cow  on  it,  so  as  to  stamp  our  pats  of 
butter  before  they  went  to  market;  also  a  horse  on  the 
other  side,  and  a  flock  snowed  up  at  the  bottom.  But  the 
gentlemen  would  not  hear  of  this;  and  to  find  something 
more  appropriate,  they  inquired  strictly  into  the  annals  of 
our  family.  I  told  them,  of  course,  all  about  King  Alfred; 
upon  which  they  settled  that  one-quarter  should  be  three 
cakes  on  a  bar,  with  a  lion  regardant,  done  upon  a  field  of 
gold.  Also  I  told  them  that  very  likely  there  had  been  a 
Ridd  in  the  battle  fought,  not  very  far  from  Plovei-s  Bar- 
rows, by  the  Earl  of  Devon  against  the  Danes,  when 
Hubba,  their  chief,  was  killed,  and  the  sacred  standard 
taken.  As  some  of  the  Danes  are  said  to  be  buried  even 
upon  land  of  ours,  and  we  call  their  graves  (if  such  they 
be)  even  to  this  day  **  barrows, *'  the  heralds  quite  agreed 
with  me  that  a  Ridd  might  have  been  there,  or  thereabouts; 
and  if  he  was  there,  he  was  almost  certain  to  have  done  his 
best,  being  in  sight  of  hearth  and  home;  and  it  was  plain 
that  he  must  have  had  good  legs  to  be  at  the  same  time 
both  there  and  in  Athelney,  and  good  legs  are  an  argument 
for  good  arms;  and  supposing  a  man  of  this  sort  to  have 
done  his  utmost  (as  the  manner  of  the  Ridds  is),  it  was 
next  to  certain  that  he  himself  must  have  captured  the 
standard.  Moreover,  the  name  of  our  farm  was  pure  proof; 
a  plover  being  a  wild  bird,  just  the  same  as  a  raven  is. 
Upon  this  chain  of  reasoning,  and  without  any  weak  mis- 
giving, they  charged  my  growing  escutcheon  with  a  black 
raven  on  a  ground  of  red.  ^  And  the  next  thing  which  I 


630  LORNA  BOONE. 

mentioned  possessing  absolute  certainty,  to-wit,  that  a  pi^ 
with  two  heads  had  been  born  upon  our  farm  not  more 
than  two  hundred  years  agone  (although  he  died  within  a 
week),  my  third  quarter  was  made  at  once,  by  a  two-headed 
boar  with  noble  tusks,  sable  upon  silver.  All  this  was  very 
fierce  and  fine;  and  so  I  pressed  for  a  peaceful  corner  in 
the  lower  dexter,  and  obtained  a  wheat-sheaf  set  upright, 
gold  upon  a  field  of  green. 

Here  I  was  inclined  to  pause,  and  admire  the  effect;  for 
even  De  Whichehalse  could  not  show  a  bearing  so  magnifi- 
cent. But  the  heralds  said  that  it  looked  a  mere  sign-board 
without  a  good  motto  under  it;  and  the  motto  must  have 
my  name  in  it.  They  offered  me  first,  *'  Ridd  non  riden- 
dus;"  but  I  said,  '^  For  God's  sake,  gentlemen,  let  me  for- 
get my  Latin.''  Then  they  proposed,  *^Ridd  readeth 
riddles;''  but  I  begged  them  not  to  set  down  such  a  lie;  for 
no  Ridd  ever  had  made,  or  made  out,  such  a  thing  as 
a  riddle  since  Exmoor  itself  began.  Thirdly,  they  gave 
me,  *'Ridd,  never  be  ridden;"  and  fearing  to  make  any 
further  objections,  I  let  them  inscribe  it  in  bronze  upon 
blue.  The  heralds  thought  that  the  King  would  pay 
for  this  noble  achievement;  but  His  Majesty,  although 
graciously  pleased  with  their  ingenuity,  declined  in  th« 
most  decided  manner  to  pay  a  farthing  toward  it;  and  as  I 
had  now  no  money  left,  the  heralds  became  as  blue  as 
azure,  and  as  red  as  gules,  until  Her  Majesty  the  Queen 
came  forward  very  kindly,  and  said  that  if  His  Majesty 
gave  me  a  coat  of  arms,  I  was  not  to  pay  for  it;  therefore 
she  herself  did  so  quite  handsomely,  and  felt  good-will 
toward  me  in  consequence. 

Now  being  in  a  hurry — so  far,  at  least,  as  it  is  my 
nature  to  hurry— to  get  to  the  end  of  this  narrative,  is  it 
likely  that  I  would  have  dwelt  so  long  upon  my  coat  of 
arms  but  for  some  good  reason?  And  this  good  reason  is 
that  Lorna  took  the  greatest  pride  in  it,  and  thought  (or 
at  any  rate  said)  that  it  quite  threw  into  the  shade  and 
eclipsed  all  her  own  ancient  glories.  And  half  in  fun,  and 
half  in  earnest,  she  called  me  "  Sir  John  "  so  continually, 
that  at  last  I  was  almost  angry  with  her,  until  her  eyes 
were  bedewed  with  tears;  and  then  I  was  angry  with 
myself. 

Beginning  to  be  short  of  money,  and  growing  anxious 


NOT  TO  BE  PUT  UP  WITH.  631 

about  the  farm,  longing  also  to  show  myself  and  my  noble 
escutcheon  to  mother,  I  took  advantage  of  Lady  Lorna's 
interest  with  the  Queen  to  obtain  my  acquittance  and  full 
discharge  from  even  nominal  custody.  It  had  been  in- 
tended to  keep  me  in  waiting  until  the  return  of  Lord 
Jeffreys  from  that  awful  circuit  of  shambles,  through 
which  his  name  is  still  used  by  mothers  to  frighten  their 
children  into  bed.  And  right  glad  was  I — for  even  London 
shrunk  with  horror  at  the  news — to  escape  a  man  so  blood- 
thirsty, savage,  and,  even  to  his  friends  (among  whom  I 
was  reckoned),  malignant. 

Earl  Brandir  was  greatly  pleased  with  me,  not  only  for 
having  saved  his  life,  but  for  saving  that  which  he  valued 
more,  the  wealth  laid  by  for  Lord  Alan.  And  he  intro- 
duced me  to  many  great  people,  who  quite  kindly  en- 
couraged me,  and  promised  to  help  me  in  every  way,  when 
they  heard  how  the  King  had  spoken.  As  for  the  furrier, 
he  could  never  have  enough  of  my  society;  and  this  worthy 
man,  praying  my  commendation,  demanded  of  me  one  thing 
only — to  speak  of  him  as  I  found  him.  As  I  had  found  him 
many  a  Sunday  furbishing  up  old  furs  for  new,  with  a 
glaze  to  conceal  the  moths'  ravages,  I  begged  him  to  recon- 
sider the  point,  and  not  to  demand  sucli  accuracy.  He 
said,  '^  Well,  well;  all  trades  had  tricks,  especially  the 
trick  of  business;  and  I  must  take  him — if  I  were  his  true 
friend — according  to  his  own  description."     This  I   was 

flad  enough  to  do;  because  it  saved  so  much  trouble,  and 
had  no  money  to  spend  with  him.  But  still  he  requested 
the  use  of  my  name;  and  I  begged  him  to  do  the  best  with 
it,  as  I  never  had  kept  a  banker.  And  the  *' John  Ridd 
cuffs,"  and  the  ''  Sir  John  mantles,"  and  the  "  holly-staff 
capes"  he  put  into  his  window,  as  the  winter  was  coming 
on,  ay,  and  sold  (for  every  body  was  burning  with  gossip 
about  me),  must  have  made  this  good  man's  fortune; 
since  the  excess  of  price  over  value  is  the  true  test  of  suc- 
cess in  life. 

To  come  away  from  all  this  stuff,  which  grieves  a  man 
in  London — when  the  brisk  air  of  the  autumn  cleared  its  way 
to  Ludgate  Hill,  and  clever  'prentices  ran  out,  and  sniffed 
at  it,  and  fed  upon  it  (having  little  else  to  eat);  and  when 
the  horses  from  the  country  were  a  goodly  sight  to  see. 
With  the  rasp  of  winter  bristles  rising  through  and  amonif 


632 


LORNA  BOONE, 


the  soft  summer-coat;  and  when  the  new  straw  began  to 
come  in,  golden  with  the  harvest-gloss,  and  smelling  most 
divinely  at  those  strange  livery-stables  where  the  nags  are 
put  quite  tail  to  tail;  and  when  all  the  London  folk  them- 
selves were  asking  about  white  frost  (from  recollections  of 
childhood);  then,  I  say,  such  a  yearning  seized  me  for 
moory  crag,  and  for  dewy  blade,  and  even  the  grunting  of 
our  sheep  (when  the  sun  goes  down),  that  nothing  but 
the  new  wisps  of  Samson  could  have  held  me  in  London 
town. 

Lorna  was  moved  with  equal  longing  toward  the  country 
and  country  ways;  and  she  spoke  quite  as  much  of  the 
glistening  dew  as  she  did  of  the  smell  of  our  oven.  And 
here  let  me  mention — although  the  two  are  quite  distinct 
and  different — that  both  the  dew  and  the  bread  of  Exmoor 
may  be  sought,  whether  high  or  low,  but  never  found  else- 
where. The  dew,  is  so  crisp,  and  pure,  and  pearly,  and  in 
such  abundance;  and  the  bread  is  so  sweet,  so  kind,  and 
homely,  you  can  eat  a  loaf,  and  then  another. 

Now  while  I  was  walking  daily  in  and  out  great  crowds 
of  men  (few  of  whom  had  any  freedom  from  the  cares  of 
money,  and  many  of  whom  were  even  morbid  with  a  worst 
pest,  called  *' politics"),  I  could  not  be  quit  of  thinking 
how  we  jostle  one  another.  God  has  made  the  earth  quite 
large,  with  a  spread  of  land  enough  for  all  to  live  on,  with- 
out fighting;  also  a  mighty  spread  of  water,  laying  hands 
on  sand  and  cliff  with  a  solemn  voice  in  storm-time,  and  in 
the  gentle  weather  moving  men  to  thoughts  of  equity. 
This,  as  well,  is  full  of  food;  being  two-thirds  of  the 
world,  and  reserve  for  devouring  knowledge,  by  the  time 
the  sons  of  men  have  fed  away  the  dry  land.  Yet  before 
the  land  itself  has  acknowledged  touch  of  man  upon  one 
in  a  hundred  acres,  and  before  one  mile  in  ten  thousand  of 
the  exhaustless  ocean  has  ever  felt  the  plunge  of  hook,  or 
combing  of  the  haul-nets,  lo,  we  crawl,  in  flocks  togetlier, 
upon  the  hot  ground  that  stings  us,  even  as  the  black 
grubs  crowd  upon  the  harried  nettle!  Surely  we  are  too 
much  given  to  follow  the  tracks  of  each  other. 

However,  for  a  moralist  I  never  set  up,  and  never  shall, 
while  common  sense  abides  with  me.  Such  a  man  must 
be  very  wretched,  in  this  pure  dearth  of  morality;  like  a 
fisherman  where  no  fish  be;  and  most  of  us  have  enough 


NOT  TO  3E  PUT  UP  WITH.  633 

to  do  to  attend  to  our  own  morals.  Enough  that  I 
resolved  to  go;  and  as  Lorna  could  not  come  with  me,  it 
was  even  worse  than  stopping.  Nearly  everybody  vowed 
that  I  was  a  great  fool  indeed  to  neglect  so  rudely — which 
was  the  proper  word,  they  said — the  pushing  of  my  fort- 
unes. But  I  answered  that  to  push  was  rude;  and  I  left 
it  to  people  who  had  no  room,  and  thought  that  my  fort- 
une must  be  heavy,  if  it  would  not  move  without  pushing. 

Lorna  cried  when  I  came  away  (which  gave  me  great 
satisfaction),  and  she  sent  a  whole  trunkful  of  things  for 
mother  and  Annie,  and  even  Lizzie.  And  she  seemed  to 
think,  though  she  said  it  not,  that  I  made  my  own  occa- 
sion for  going,  and  might  have  stayed  on  till  the  winter. 
Whereas  I  knew  well  that  my  mother  would  think  (and 
every  one  on  the  farm  the  same)  that  here  I  had  been  in 
London,  lagging  and  taking  my  pleasure,  and  looking  at 
shops,  upon  pretense  of  King's  business,  and  leaving  the 
harvest  to  reap  itself,  not  to  mention  the  spending  of 
money;  while  all  the  time  there  was  nothing  whatever, 
except  my  own  love  of  adventure  and  sport,  to  keep  me 
from  coming  home  again.  But  I  knew  that  my  coat-of- 
arms  and  title  would  turn  every  bit  of  this  grumbling  into 
fine  admiration. 

And  so  it  fell  out,  to  a  greater  extent  than  even  I  desired; 
for  all  the  parishes  round  about  united  in  a  sumptuous 
dinner  at  the  Mother  Melldrum  inn— for  now  that  good 
lady  was  dead,  and  her  name  and  face  set  on  a  sign-post — 
to  which  I  was  invited,  so  that  it  was  as  good  as  a  sum- 
mons. And  if  my  health  was  no  better  next  day,  it  was 
not  from  want  of  good  wishes,  any  more  than  from  stint 
of  the  liquor. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  real  gentry  for  a  long  time 
treated  my  new  honors  with  contempt  and  ridicule;  but 
gradually  "as  they  found  that  I  was  not  such  a  fool  as  to 
claim  any  equality  with  them,  but  went  about  my  farm- 
work,  and  threw  another  man  at  wrestling,  and  touched 
my  hat  to  .the  magistrates  just  the  same  as  ever,  some 
gentlemen  of  the  highest  blood — of  which  we  think  a 
great  deal  more  than  of  gold  around  our  neighborhood — 
actually  expressed  a  desire  to  make  my  acquaintance.  And 
when,  in  a  manner  quite  straightforward,  and  wholly  free 
from  bitterness,  I  thanked  them  for  this  (which  appeared 


634  LORNA  DOONE, 

to  me  the  highest  honor  yet  offered  me),  but  declined  to 
go  into  their  company  because  it  would  make  me  uncom- 
fortable, and  themselves  as  well  in  a  different  way,  they 
did  what  nearly  all  Englishmen  do,  when  a  thing  is  right 
and  sensible.  They  shook  hands  with  me,  and  said  that 
they  could  not  deny  but  that  there  was  reason  in  my  view 
of  the  matter.  And  although  they  themselves  must 
be  the  losers — which  was  a  handsome  thing  to  say — they 
would  wait  until  I  was  a  little  older,  and  more  aware  of  my 
own  value. 

Now  this  reminds  me  how  it  is  that  an  English  gentle- 
man is  so  far  in  front  of  foreign  noblemen  and  princes. 
I  have  seen  at  times  a  little,  both  of  one  and  of  the  other; 
and  making  more  than  due  allowance  for  the  difficulties  of 
language,  and  the  difference  of  training,  upon  the  whole 
the  balance  is  in  favor  of  our  people.  And  this  because 
we  have  two  weights,  solid,  and  (even  in  the  scale  of 
manners)  outweighing  all  light  complaisance;  to-wit,  the 
inborn  love  of  justice,  and  the  power  of  abiding. 

Yet  some  people  may  be  surprised  that  men  with  any 
love  of  justice,  whether  inborn  or  otherwise,  could  con- 
tinue to  abide  the  arrogance,  and  rapacity,  and  tyranny  of 
the  Doones. 

For  now  as  the  winter  passed,  the  Doones  were  not  keep- 
ing themselves  at  home,  as  in  honor  they  were  bound  to 
do.  Twenty  sheep  a  week,  and  one  fat  ox,  and  two  stout 
red  deer  (for  wholesome  change  of  diet),  as  well  as  three- 
score bushels  of  flour,  and  two  hogsheads  and  a  half  of 
cider,  and  a  hundred-weight  of  candles,  not  to  mention 
other  things  of  almost  every  variety,  which  they  got  by  in- 
sisting upon  it — surely  these  might  have  sufficed  to  keep 
the  people  in  their  place,  with  no  outburst  of  wantonness. 
Nevertheless,  it  was  not  so;  they  had  made  complaint 
about  something — too  much  ewe-mutton,  I  think  it  was — 
and  in  spite  of  all  the  pledges  given,  they  had  ridden 
forth,  and  carried  away  two  maidens  of  our  neighborhood. 

Now  these  two  maidens  were  known,  because  they  had 
served  the  beer  at  an  ale-house;  and  many  men  who  had 
looked  at  them  over  a  pint  or  a  quart  vessel  (especially  as 
they  were  comely  girls)  thought  it  was  very  hard  for  them 
to  go  in  that  way,  and  perhaps  themselves  unwilling.  And 
their  mother  (although  she  had  taken  some  money,  which 


NOT  TO  BE  PUT  UP  WITS,  635 

the  Doones  were  always  full  of)  declared  that  it  was  a  rob- 
bery; and  though  it  increased  for  a  while  the  custom,  that 
must  soon  fall  off  again.  And  who  would  have  her  two 
girls  now,  clever  as  they  were  and  good? 

Before  we  had  finished  meditating  upon  this  loose  out- 
rage— for  so  I,  at  least,  would  call  it,  though  people  accus- 
tomed to  the  law  may  take  a  different  view  of  it — we  had 
news  of  a  thing  far  worse,  which  turaed  the  hearts  of  our 
women  sick.  This  I  will  tell  in  most  careful  language,  so 
as  to  give  offense  to  none,  if  skill  of  words  may  help  it.* 

Mistress  Margery  Badcock,  a  healthy  and  upright  young 
woman,  with  a  good  rich  color,  and  one  of  the  finest  hen- 
roosts anywhere  around  our  neighborhood,  was  nursing  her 
child  about  six  of  the  clock,  and  looking  out  for  her  hus- 
band. Now  this  child  was  too  old  to  be  nursed,  as  every 
body  told  her;  for  he  could  run,  say  two  yards  alone,  and 
perhaps  four  or  five,  by  holding  to  handles.  And  he  had 
a  way  of  looking  round,  and  spreading  his  legs,  and  laugh- 
ing, with  his  brave  little  body  well  fetched  up,  after  a  des- 
perate journey  to  the  end  of  the  table,  which  his  mother 
said  notliing  could  equal.  Nevertheless  he  would  come  to 
be  nursed  as  regular  as  a  clock  almost;  and  inasmuch  as 
he  was  the  first,  both  father  and  mother  made  much  of 
him;  for  God  only  knew  whether  they  could  ever  compass 
such  another  one. 

Christopher  Badcock  was  a  tenant  farmer  in  the  parish 
of  Martinhoe,  renting  some  fifty  acres  of  land,  with  a  right 
of  common  attached  to  them ;  and  at  this  particular 
time,  being  now  the  month  of  February,  and  fine  open 
weather,  he  was  hard  at  work  plowing  and  preparing  for 
spring  corn.  Therefore  his  wife  was  not  surprised,  al- 
though the  dusk  was  falling,  that  Farmer  Christopher 
should  be  at  work  in  "blind-man's  holiday/^  as  we  call  it. 

But  she  was  surprised,  nay,  astonished,  when  by  the 
light  of  the  kitchen  fire  (brightened  up  for  her  husband) 
she  saw  six  or  seven  great  armed  men  burst  into  the  room 
upon  her;  and  she  screamed  so  that  the  maid  in  the  back 
kitchen  heard  her,  but  was  afraid  to  come  to  help.     Two  of 

*  The  following  story  is  strictly  true;  and  true  it  is  that  the  coun- 
try-people rose  to  a  man  at  this  dastard  cruelty,  and  did  what  the 
Government  failed  to  do. — Ed. 


636  LORNA  BOONS. 

the  strongest  and  fiercest  men  at  once  seized  poor  young 
Margery;  and  though  she  fought  for  her  child  and  home, 
she  was  but  an  infant  herself  in  their  hands.  In  spite  of 
tears,  and  shrieks,  and  struggles,  they  tore  the  babe  from 
the  mother's  arms,  and  cast  it  on  the  lime-ash  floor;  then 
they  bore  her  away  to  their  horses  (for  by  this  time  she  was 
senseless),  and  telling  the  others  to  sack  the  house,  rode  off 
with  their  prize  to  the  valley.  And  from  the  description 
of  one  of  those  two  who  carried  off  the  poor  woman,  I  knew 
beyond  all  doubt  that  it  was  Carver  Doone  himself. 

The  other  Doones  being  left  behind,  and  grieved,  per- 
haps, in  some  respects,  set  to  with  a  will  to  scour  the 
house,  and  to  bring  away  all  that  was  good  to  eat.  And 
being  a  little  vexed  herein  (for  the  Badcocks  were  not  a 
rich  couple),  and  finding  no  more  than  bacon,  and  eggs, 
and  cheese,  and  little  items,  and  nothing  to  drink  but 
water;  in  a  word,  their  taste  being  offended,  they  came 
back  to  the  kitchen,  and  stamped,  and  there  was  the  baby 
lying. 

By  evil  luck,  this  child  began  to  squeal  about  his  mother, 
having  been  petted  hitherto,  and  wont  to  get  all  he  wanted 
by  raising  his  voice  but  a  little.  Now  the  mark  of  the 
floor  was  upon  his  head;  as  the  maid  (who  had  stolen  to 
look  at  him  when  the  rough  men  were  swearing  upstairs) 
gave  evidence.  And  she  put  a  dish-cloth  under  his  head 
and  kissed  him,  and  ran  away  again.  Her  name  was 
Honor  Jose,  and  she  meant  what  was  right  by  her  master 
and  mistress,  but  could  not  help  being  frightened.  And 
many  women  have  blamed  her,  and  as  I  think  unduly,  for 
her  mode  of  forsaking  baby  so.  If  it  had  been  her  own 
baby,  instinct  rather  than  reason  might  have  had  the  day 
with  her;  but  the  child  being  born  of  her  mistress,  she 
wished  him  good  luck,  and  left  him,  as  the  fierce  men 
came  down-stairs.  And  being  alarmed  by  their  power  of 
language  (because  they  had  found  no  silver),  she  crept 
away  in  a  breathless  hurry,  and  afraid  how  her  breath 
might  come  back  to  her.  For  oftentioie  she  had  hic- 
coughs. 

While  this  good  maid  was  in  the  oven,  by  side  of  back- 
kitchen  fire-place,  with  a  fagot  of  wood  dra.wn  over  her, 
and  lying  so  that  her  own  heart  beat  worse  than  if  she 
were  baking,  the  men  (as  I  said  before)  came  down-stairs, 
and  stamped  around  the  baby. 


NOT  TO  BE  PUT  UP  WITH.  637 


"  Rowland,  is  the  bacon  good?"  one  of  them  asked,  with 
an  oath  or  two.  *'It  is  too  bad  of  Carver  to  go  off  with 
the  only  prize,  and  leave  us  in  a  starving  cottage,  and  not 
enough  to  eat  for  two  of  us.  Fetch  down  the  staves  of  the 
rack,  my  boy.     What  was  farmer  to  have  for  supper?" 

^^  Naught  but  an  onion  or  two,  and  a  loaf,  and  a  rasher 
of  rusty  bacon.  These  poor  devils  live  so  badly,  they  are 
not  worth  robbing." 

*'  No  game!  Then  let  us  have  a  game  of  loriot  with  the 
baby!  It  will  be  the  best  thing  that  could  befall  a  lusty 
infant  heretic.  Ride  a  cock-horse  to  Banbury  Cross.  By- 
by,  baby  Bunting;  toss  him  up,  and  let  me  see  if  my  wrist 
be  steady." 

The  cruelty  of  this  man  is  a  thing  it  makes  me  sick 
to  speak  of;  enough  that  when  the  poor  baby  fell  (with- 
out attempt  at  cry  or  scream,  thinking  it  part  of  his  usual 
play,  when  they  tossed  him  up,  to  come  down  again),  the 
maid  in  the  oven  of  the  back  kitchen,  not  being  any 
door  between,  heard  them  say  as  follows: 

"  If  any  man  asketh  who  killed  thee, 
Say  'twas  the  Doones  of  Bagworthy."* 

Now  I  think  that  when  we  heard  this  story,  and  poor 
Kit  Badcock  came  all  around  in  a  sort  of  half-crazy 
manner,  not  looking  up  at  any  one,  but  dropping  his  eyes, 
and  asking  whether  we  thought  he  had  been  well 
treated,  and  seeming  void  of  regard  for  life,  if  this  were 
all  the  style  of  it;  then,  having  known  him  a  lusty  man, 
and  a  fine  singer  in  an  ale-house,  and  much  inclined  to 
lay  down  the  law,  and  show  a  high  hand  about  women,  I 
really  think  that  it  moved  us  more  than  if  he  had  gone 
about  ranting,  and  raving,  and  vowing  revenge  upon  every 
one. 

*  Always  pronounced  "Badgery." 


638  LORNA  DOONK 


CHAPTER   LXX. 

COMPELLED  TO   VOLUNTEER. 

There  had  been  some  trouble  in  our  own  home  during 
the  previous  autumn,  while  yet  I  was  in  London.  For  cer- 
tain noted  fugitives  from  the  army  of  King  Monmouth 
(which  he  himself  had  deserted  in  a  low  and  currish 
manner),  having  failed  to  obtain  free  shipment  from  the 
coast  near  Watersmouth,  had  returned  into  the  wilds  of 
Exmoor,  trusting  to  lurk,  and  be  comforted,  among  the 
common  people.  Neither  were  they  disappointed  for  a  cer- 
tain length  of  time,  nor,  in  the  end,  was  their  disappoint- 
ment caused  by  fault  on  our  part.  Major  Wade  was  one 
of  them;  an  active  and  well  meaning  man,  but  prone  to 
fail  in  courage  upon  lasting  trial,  altnough  in  a  moment 
ready.  Squire  John  Whichehalse  (not  the  baron)  and 
Parson  Powell*  caught  him  (two  or  three  months  before 
my  return)  in  Farley  farm-house,  near  Brendon.  He  had 
been  up  at  our  house  several  times,  and  Lizzie  thought  a 
great  deal  of  him.  And  well  I  know  that  if  at  that  time  I 
had  been  in  the  neighborhood,  he  should  not  have  been 
taken  so  easily. 

John  Birch,  the  farmer  who  had  sheltered  him,  was  so 
fearful  of  punishment  that  he  hanged  himself  in  a  few 
days'  time,  and  even  before  he  was  apprehended.  But 
nothing  was  done  to  Grace  Howe,  of  Bridgeball,  who  had 
been  Wade's  greatest  comforter,  neither  was  anything  done 
to  us;  although  Eliza  added  greatly  to  mother's  alarm  and 
danger  by  falling  upon  Rector  Powell,  and  most  soundly 
rating  him  for  his  meanness,  and  his  cruelty,  and  coward- 
ice, as  she* called  it,  in  setting  men  with  fire-arms  upon  a 
poor  helpless  fugitive,  and  robbing  all  our  neighborhood 

*Not  our  Parson  Bowden,  nor  anymore  a  friend  of  his.  Our 
Parson  Bowden  never  had  naught  whatever  to  do  with  it,  and  never 
smoked  a  pipe  with  Parson  Powell  after  it. — J.  R. 


COMPELLED  TO  VOLUNTEER.  639 

of  its  fame  for  hospitality.  However,  by  means  of  Sergeant 
Bloxham,  and  his  good  report  of  ns,  as  well  as  by  virtue  of 
Wade's  confession  (which  proved  o|  use  to  the  Govern- 
ment), my  mother  escaped  all  penalties. 

It  is  likely  enough  that  good  folk  will  think  it  hard 
upon  our  neighborhood  to  be  threatened,  and  sometimes 
heavily  punished,  for  kindness  and  humanity,  and  yet  to 
be  left  to  help  ourselves  against  tyranny  and  base  rapine. 
And  now,  at  last,  our  gorge  was  risen,  and  our  hearts  in 
tumult.  We  had  borne  our  troubles  long,  as  a  wise  and 
wholesome  chastisement,  quite  content  to  have  some  few 
things  of  our  own  unmeddled  with.  But  what  could  a 
man  dare  to  call  his  own,  or  what  right  could  he  have  to 
wish  for  it,  while  he  left  his  wife  and  children  at  tlit  pleas- 
ure of  any  stranger? 

The  people  came  flocking  all  around  me  at  the  black- 
smith's forge  and  the  Brendon  ale-house,  and  I  could 
scarce  come  out  of  church  but  they  got  me  among  the 
tombstones.  They  all  agreed  that  I  was  bound  to  take 
command  and  management.  I  bade  them  go  to  tlie  mag- 
istrates, but  they  said  they  had  been  too  often.  Then  I 
told  them  that  I  had  no  wits  for  ordering  of  an  armament, 
although  I  could  find  fault  enough  with  the  one  which  had 
not  succeeded.  But  they  would  hearken  to  none  of  this. 
All  they  said  was,  "  Try  to  lead  us,  and  we  will  try  not  to 
run  away." 

This  seemed  to  me  to  be  common  sense  and  good  stuff, 
instead  of  mere  bragging;  moreover,  I  myself  was  moved 
by  the  bitter  wrongs  of  Margery,  having  known  her  at  the 
Sunday-school  ere  ever  I  went  to  Tiverton,  and  having,  in 
those  days,  serious  thoughts  of  making  her  my  sweetheart, 
although  she  was  three  years  my  elder.  But  now  I  felt 
this  difficulty — the  Doones  had  behaved  very  well  to  our 
farm,  and  to  mother,  and  all  of  us,  while  I  was  away  in 
London;  therefore  would  it  not  be  shabby  and  mean  for 
me  to  attack  them  now? 

Yet  being  pressed  still  harder  and  harder,  as  day  by  day 
the  excitement  grew,  with  more  and  more  talking  about  it, 
and  no  one  else  coming  forward  to  undertake  the  business, 
I  agreed  at  last  to  this:  that  if  the  Doones,  upon  fair  chal- 
lenge, would  not  endeavor  to  make  amends  by  giving  up 
Mistress  Margery,  as  well  as  the  man  who  had  slain  the 


640  LORNA  DOONE, 

babe,  then  I  would  lead  the  expedition  and  do  my  best  to 
subdue  them.  All  our  men  were  content  with  this,  being 
thoroughly  well  assured,  from  experience,  that  the  haughtf 
robbers  would  only  shoot  any  man  who  durst  approach 
them  with  such  proposal. 

And  then  arose  a  difficult  question — who  was  to  take  the 
risk  of  making  overtures  so  unpleasant?  I  waited  for  the 
rest  to  offer;  and  as  none  was  ready,  the  burden  fell  on 
me,  and  seemed  to  be  of  my  own  inviting.  Hence  I  un- 
dertook the  task,  sooner  than  reason  about  it;  for  to  give 
the  cause  for  everything  is  worse  than  to  go  through 
with  it. 

It  may  have  been  three  of  the  afternoon,  when,  leaving 
my  witnesses  behind  (for  they  preferred  the  background), 
I  appeared  with  our  Lizzie's  white  handkerchief  upon  a 
kidney-bean  stick  at  the  entrance  to  the  robbers'  dwelling. 
Scarce  knowing  what  might  come  of  it,  I  had  taken  the 
wise  precaution  of  fastening  a  Bible  over  my  heart,  and 
another  across  my  spinal  column,  in  case  of  having  to  run 
away,  with  rude  men  shooting  after  me.  For  my  mother 
said  that  the  Word  of  God  would  stop  a  two-inch  bullet 
with  three  ounces  of  powder  behind  it.  Now,  I  took  no 
weapons,  save  those  of  the  Spirit,  for  fear  of  being  misun- 
derstood. But  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  think  that  any 
of  honorable  birth  would  take  advantage  of  an  unarmed 
man  coming  in  guise  of  peace  to  them. 

And  this  conclusion  of  mine  held  good,  at  least  for  a 
certain  length  of  time,  inasmuch  as  two  decent  Doones  ap- 
peared, and  hearing  of  my  purpose  offered,  without  vio- 
lence, to  go  and  fetch  the  Captain  if  I  would  stop  where  I 
was  and  not  begin  to  spy  about  anything.  To  this,  of 
course,  I  agreed  at  once,  for  I  wanted  no  more  spying,  be- 
cause I  had  thorough  knowledge  of  all  ins  and  outs 
ah'eady.  Therefore,  I  stood  waiting  steadily,  with  one 
hand  in  my  pocket  feeling  a  sample  of  corn  for  market, 
and  the  other  against  the  rock,  while  I  wondered  to  see  it 
so  brown  already. 

Those  men  came  back  in  a  little  while,  with  a  sharp 
short  message  that  Captain  Carver  would  come  out  and 
speak  to  me  by-and-by  when  his  pipe  was  finished.  Ac- 
cordingly, I  waited  long,  and  we  talked  about  the  signs  of 
bloom  for  the  coming  apple  season,  and  the  rain  that  had 


COMPELLED  TO  VOLUNTEER.  641 

fallen  last  Wednesday  night,  and  the  principal  dearth  of 
Devonshire,  that  it  will  not  grow  many  cowslips — which 
we  quite  agreed  to  be  the  prettiest  of  spring  flowers;  and 
all  the  time  I  was  wondering  how  many  black  and  deadly, 
deeds  these  two  innocent  youths  had  committed  even  since 
last  Christmas. 

At  length  a  heavy  and  haughty  step  sounded  along  the 
stone  roof  of  the  way;  and  then  the  great  Carver  Doone 
drew  up,  and  looked  at  me  rather  scornfully.  Not  with 
any  spoken  scorn,  nor  flash  of  strong  contumely,  but  with 
that  air  of  thinking  little,  and  praying  not  to  be  troubled, 
which  always  vexes  a  man  who  feels  that  he  ought  not 
to  be  despised  so,  and  yet  knows  not  how  to  help  it. 

"What  is  it  you  want,  young  man?"  he  asked,  as  if  he 
had  never  seen  me  before. 

In  spite  of  that  strong  loathing  which  I  always  felt  at 
sight  of  him,  I  commanded  my  temper  moderately,  and 
told  him  that  I  was  come  for  his  good,  and  that  of  his  wor- 
shipful company,  far  more  than  for  my  own.  That  a geneiul 
feeling  of  indignation  had  arisen  among  us  at  the  recent 
behavior  of  certain  young  men,  for  which  he  might  not 
be  answerable,  and  for  which  we  would  not  condemn  him 
without  knowing  the  rights  of  the  question.  But  I  begged 
him  clearly  to  understand  that  a  vile  and  inhuman  wrong 
had  been  done,  and  such  as  we  could  not  put  up  with;  but 
that  if  he  would  make  what  amends  he  could  by  restoring 
the  poor  woman,  and  giving  up  that  odious  brute  who  had 
slain  the  harmless  infant,  we  would  take  no  further 
motion,  and  things  should  go  on  as  usual.  As  I  put  this 
in  the  fewest  words  that  would  meet  my  purpose,  1  was 
grieved  to  see  a  disdainful  smile  spread  on  his  sallow  coun- 
tenance. Then  he  made  me  a  bow  of  mock  courtesy,  and 
replied  as  follows: 

"Sir  John,  your  new  honors  have  turned  your  poor 
head,  as  might  have  been  expected.  We  are  not  in  the 
habit  of  deserting  anything  that  belongs  to  us,  far  less  our 
sacred  relatives.  The  insolence  of  your  demand  well  nigh 
outdoes  the  ingratitude.  If  there  be  a  man  upon  Exmoor 
who  has  grossly  ill-used  us,  kidnaped  our  young  women, 
and  slain  half  a  dozen  of  our  young  men,  you  are  that  out- 
rageous rogue.  Sir  John.  And  after  all  this,  how  have  we 
behaved?    We  have  laid  no  hand  upon  your  farm,  we  havQ 


^42  LORNA  BOONE, 

not  carried  off  your  women,  we  have  even  allowed  you  to 
take  our  Queen,  by  creeping  and  crawling  treachery;  and 
we  have  given  you  leave  of  absence  to  help  your  cousin,  the 
highwayman,  and  to  come  home  with  a  title.  And  now, 
how  do  you  requite  us?  By  inflaming  the  boorish  indigna- 
tion at  a  little  frolic  of  our  young  men,  and  by  coming 
with  insolent  demands,  to  yield  to  which  would  ruin  us. 
Ah,  you  ungrateful  viper!" 

As  he  turned  away  in  sorrow  from  me,  shaking  his  head 
at  my  badness,  I  became  so  overcome  (never  having  been 
quite  assured,  even  by  people's  praises,  about  my  own 
goodness),  moreover,  the  light  which  he  threw  upon  things 
differed  so  greatly  from  my  own,  that,  in  a  word — not  to 
be  too  long — 1  feared  that  I  was  a  villain.  And  with 
many  bitter  pangs — for  I  have  bad  things  to  repent  of — I 
began  at  my  leisure  to  ask  myself  whether  or  not  this  bill 
of  indictment  against  John  Ridd  was  true.  Some  of  it  I 
knew  to  be  (however  much  I  condemned  myself)  altogether 
out  of  reason;  for  instance,  about  my  going  away  with 
Lorna  very  quietly  over  the  snow,  and  to  save  my  love 
from  being  starved  away  from  me.  In  this  there  was  no 
creeping,  neither  crawling  treachery,  for  all  was  done  with 
sliding;  and  yet  I  was  so  out  of  training  for  being  charged 
by  other  people  beyond  mine  own  conscience,  that  Carver 
Doone's  harsh  words  came  on  me  like  prickly  spinach 
sown  with  raking.     Therefore,  I  replied,  and  said: 

^'It  is  true  that  I  owe  you  gratitude,  sir,  for  a  certain 
time  of  forbearance;  and  it  is  to  prove  my  gratitude  that  T 
am  come  here  now.  I  do  not  think  that  my  evil  deeds  can 
be  set  against  your  own,  although  I  cannot  speak  flowingly 
upon  my  good  deeds  as  you  can.  I  took  your  Queen  be- 
cause you  starved  her,  having  stolen  her  long  before,  and 
killed  her  mother  and  brother.  This  is  is  not  for  me  to 
dwell  upon  now,  any  more  than  I  would  say  much  about 
your  murdering  of  my  father.  But  how  the  balance  hangs 
between  us,  God  knows  better  than  thou  or  I,  thou  low  mis- 
creant. Carver  Doone." 

I  had  worked  myself  up,  as  I  always  do,  in  the  manner 
of  heavy  men,  growing  hot  like  an  ill-washered  wheel  re- 
volving, though  I  start  with  a  cool  axle;  and  I  felt 
ashamed  of  myself  for  heat,  and  ready  to  ask  pardon.  But 
Carver  Doone  regarded  me  with  a  noble  and  fearless 
grandeur. 


COMPELLED  TO  VOLUNTEER.  643 

*'  I  have  given  thee  thy  choice,  John  Ridd,"  he  said,  in  a 
lofty  manner,  which  made  me  drop  away  under  him;  "  I 
always  wish  to  do  my  best  with  the  worst  people  who  come 
near  me.  And  of  all  I  have  ever  met  with,  thou  art  the 
very  worst,  Sir  John,  and  the  most  dishonest." 

Now  after  all  my  laboring  to  pay  every  man  to  a  penny, 
and  to  allow  the  women  over,  when  among  the  couch-grass 
(which  is  a  sad  thing  for  their  gowns),  to  be  charged  like 
this,  I  say,  so  amazed  me  that  I  stood,  with  my  legs  quite 
open,  and  ready  for  an  earthquake.  And  the  scornful  way 
in  which  he  said  '^  Sir  John  "  went  to  my  very  heart,  re- 
minding me  of  my  littleness.  But  seeing  no  use  in  bandy- 
ing words,  nay,  rather  the  chance  of  mischief,  I  did  my  best 
to  look  calmly  at  him,  and  to  say  with  a  quiet  voice, 
"  Farewell,  Carver  Doone,  this  time;  our  day  of  reckoning 
is  nigh." 

*'Thou  fool,  it  is  come,"  he  cried,  leaping  aside  into  the 
niche  of  rock  by  the  door-way:  "Fire!" 

Save  for  the  quickness  of  spring,  and  readiness,  learned 
in  many  a  wrestling  bout,  that  knavish  trick  must  have 
ended  me;  but  scarce  was  the  word  "  fire!"  out  of  his  mouth 
ere  I  was  out  of  fire  by  a  single  bound  behind  the  rocky 
pillar  of  the  opening.  In  this  jump  I  was  so  brisk,  at  im- 
pulse of  the  love  of  life  (for  I  saw  the  muzzles  set  upon  me 
from  the  darkness  of  the  cavern),  that  the  men  who  had 
trained  their  guns  upon  me  with  good-will  and  daintiness 
could  not  check  their  fingers  crooked  upon  the  heavy  trig- 
gers; and  the  volley  sung  with  a  roar  behind  it  down  the 
avenue  o£  crags. 

With  one  thing  and  another,  and  most  of  all  the  treach- 
ery of  thii  dastard  scheme,  I  was  so  amazed  that  I  turned 
and  ran,  at  the  very  top  of  my  speed,  away  from  these  vile 
fellows;  and  luckily  for  me  they  had  not  another  charge  to 
send  after  me.  And  thus  by  good  fortune  I  escaped,  but 
with  a  bitter  heart  and  mind  at  their  treacherous  usage. 

Without  any  futher  hesitation,  I  agreed  to  take  com- 
mand of  the  honest  men  who  were  burning  to  punish,  ay, 
and  destroy,  those  outlaws,  as  now  beyond  all  bearing. 
One  condition,  however,  I  made,  namely,  that  the  Coun- 
selor should  be  spared,  if  possible;  not  because  he  was  less 
a  villain  than  any  of  the  others,  but  that  he  seemed  less 
violent,  and  above  all,  had  been  good  to  Annie.     And  I 


644  LORNA  DOONE. 

found  hard  work  to  make  them  listen  to  my  wish  wpon 
this  point;  for  of  all  the  Doones,  Sir  Counselor  had  made 
himself  most  hated,  by  his  love  of  law  and  reason. 

We  arranged  that  all  our  men  should  come  and  fall  into 
order,  with  pike  and  musket,  over  against  our  dunghill, 
and  we  settled  early  in  the  day  that  their  wives  might 
come  and  look  at  them.  For  most  of  these  men  had  good 
wives;  quite  dilTcrent  from  sweethearts,  such  as  the  militia 
had;  women,  indeed,  who  could  hold  to  a  man,  and  see  to 
him,  and  bury  him — if  his  luck  were  evil — and  perhaps 
have  no  one  afterward.  And  all  these  women  pressed  their 
rights  upon  their  precious  husbands,  and  brought  so  many 
children  with  them,  and  made  such  a  fuss,  and  hugging, 
and  racing  after  little  legs,  that  our  farm-yard  might  be 
taken  for  an  outdoor  school  for  babies  rather  than  a  review- 
ground. 

I  myself  was  to  and  fro  among  the  children  continually; 
for  if  I  love  anything  in  the  world,  foremost  I  love  chil- 
dren. They  warm,  and  yet  they  cool  our  hearts,  as  we 
think  of  what  we  were,  and  what  in  young  clothes  we 
hoped  to  be,  and  how  many  things  have  come  across.  And 
to  see  our  motives  moving  in  the  little  things  that  know 
not  what  their  aim  or  object  is,  must  almost,  or  ought  at 
least,  to  lead  us  home  and  soften  us.  P^or  either  end  of 
life  is  home,  both  source  and  issue  being  God. 

Nevertheless,  I  must  confess  that  the  children  were  a 
plague  sometimes.  They  never  could  have  enough  of  me 
— being  a  hundred  to  one,  you  might  say — but  I  had  more 
th'dw  enough  of  them,  and  yet  was  not  contented.  For 
they  had  so  many  ways  of  talking,  and  of  tugging  at  my 
hair,  and  of  sitting  upon  my  neck  (not  even  two  with  their 
legs  alike),  and  they  forced  me  to  jump  so  vehemently, 
seeming  to  court  the  peril  of  my  coming  down  neck-and- 
crop  with  them,  and  urging  me  still  to  go  faster,  however 
fast  I  might  go  with  them,  I  assure  you  that  they  were 
sometimes  so  hard  and  tyrannical  over  me,  that  I  might 
almost  as  well  have  been  among  tne  very  Doones  them- 
selves. 

Nevertheless,  the  way  in  which  the  children  made  me 
useful  proved  also  of  some  use  to  me;  for  their  mothers 
were  so  pleased  by  the  exertions  of  the  ^* great  Gee-gee^' — 
as  all  the  small  ones  entitled  me — that  they  gave  me  un- 


COMPELLED  TO  VOLUNTEEU,  645 

limited  power  and  authority  over  their  husbands:  more- 
over, they  did  their  utmost  among  their  relatives  round 
about,  to  fetch  recruits  for  our  little  band.  And  by  such 
means,  several  of  the  yeomanry  from  Barnstaple  and  from 
Tiverton  were  added  to  our  number;  and  inasmuch  as 
these  were  armed  with  heavy  swords  and  short  carbines, 
their  appearance  was  truly  formidable. 

Tom  Faggus  also  joined  us  heartily,  being  now  quite 
healed  of  his  wound,  except  at  times  when  the  wind  was 
easterly.  He  was  made  second  in  command  to  me;  and  I 
would  gladly  have  had  him  first,  as  n  ore  fertile  in  expedi- 
ents; but  he  declined  such  rank,  on  the  plea  that  I  knew 
most  of  the  seat  of  war;  besides,  that  I  might  be  held  in 
some  measure  to  draw  authority  from  the  King.  Also 
Uncle  Ben  came  over  to  help  us  with  his  advice  and  pres- 
ence, as  well  as  with  a  band  of  stout  warehousemen,  whom 
he  brought  from  Dulverton.  For  he  had  never  forgiven 
the  old  outrage  put  upon  him;  and  though  it  had  been  to 
his  interest  to  keep  quiet  during  the  last  attack  under 
Commander  Stickles — for  the  sake  of  his  secret  gold  mine 
— yet  now  lie  was  in  a  position  to  give  full  vent  to  ?iis  feel- 
ings. For  he  and  his  partners,  when  fully  assured  of  the 
value  of  their  diggings,  had  obtained  from  the  Crown  a 
license  to  adventure  in  search  of  minerals  by  payment  of  a 
heavy  fine  and  a  yearly  royalty.  Therefore  they  had  now  no 
longer  any  cause  for  secrecy,  neither  for  dread  of  the  out- 
laws, having  so  added  to  their  force  as  to  be  a  match  for 
them.  And  although  Uncle  Ben  was  not  the  man  to  keep 
his  miners  idle  an  hour  more  than  might  be  helped,  he 
promised  that  when  we  had  fixed  the  moment  for  an  assault 
on  the  valley,  a  score  of  them  should  come  to  aid  us, 
headed  by  Simon  Carfax,  and  armed  with  the  guns  which 
they  always  kept  for  the  protection  of  their  gold. 

Now  whether  it  were  Uncle  Ben,  or  whether  it  were  Tom 
Faggus,  or  even  my  own  self — for  all  three  of  us  claimed 
the  sole  honor — is  more  than  I  think  fair  to  settle  without 
allowing  them  a  voice.  But  at  any  rate  a  clever  thing  was 
devised  among  us;  and  perhaps  it  would  be  the  fairest 
thing  to  say  that  this  bright  stratagem  (worthy  of  the 
great  Duke  himself)  was  contributed,  little  by  little,  among 
the  entire  three  of  us,  all  having  pipes,  and  schnapps-and- 
water,  in  the  chimney-corner.     However,  the  world,  which 


646  LORNA  BOONK 

always  judges  according  to  reputation,  vowed  that  so  fine  a 
stroke  of  war  could  only  come  from  a  highwayman;  and  so 
Tom  Faggus  got  all  the  honor,  at  less,  perhaps,  than  a 
third  of  the  cost. 

Not  to  attempt  to  rob  him  of  it — for  robbers,  more  than 
any  other,  contend  for  rights  of  property— let  me  try  to 
describe  this  grand  artifice.  It  was  known  that  the  Doones 
were  fond  of  money,  as  well  as  strong  drink,  and  other 
things;  and  more  especially  fond  of  gold,  when  they  could 
get  it  pure  and  fine.  Therefore  it  was  agreed  that  in  this 
way  we  should  tempt  them,  for  we  knew  that  they  looked 
with  ridicule  upon  our  rustic  preparations:  after  repulsing 
King's  troopers,  and  the  militia  of  two  counties,  was  it 
likely  that  they  should  yield  their  fortress  to  a  set  of  plow- 
boys?  We,  for  our  part,  felt,  of  course,  the  power  of  this 
reasoning,  and  that  where  regular  troops  had  failed,  half- 
armed  countrymen  must  fail,  except  by  superior  judgment 
and  harmony  of  action.  Though  perhaps  the  militia 
would  have  sufficed,  if  they  had  only  fought  against  the 
foe,  instead  of  against  each  other.  From  these  things  we 
took  warning:  having  failed  through  overconfidence,  was 
it  not  possible  now  to  make  the  enemy  fail  through  the 
self -same  cause? 

Hence  what  we  devised  was  this:  to  delude  from  home  a 
part  of  the  robbers,  and  fall  by  surprise  on  the  other  part. 
We  caused  it  to  be  spread  abroad  that  a  large  heap  of  gold 
was  now  collected  at  the  mine  of  the  Wizard's  Slough. 
And  when  this  rumor  must  have  reached  them,  through 
women  who  came  to  and  fro,  as  some  entirely  faithful  to 
them  were  allowed  to  do,  we  sent  Captain  Simon  Carfax, 
the  father  of  little  Gwenny,  to  demand  an  interview  with 
the  Counselor  by  night,  and,  as  it  were,  secretly.  Then  ho 
was  to  set  forth  a  list  of  imaginary  grievances  against  the 
owners  of  the  mine,  and  to  offer,  partly  through  resent- 
ment, partly  through  the  hope  of  gain,  to  betray  into  their 
hands  upon  the  Friday  night  by  far  the  greatest  weight  of 
gold  as  yet  sent  up  for  refining.  He  was  to  have  one- 
quarter  part,  and  they  to  take  the  residue.  But  inasmuch 
as  the  convoy  across  the  moors  under  his  command  would 
be  strong,  and  strongly  armed,  the  Doones  must  be  sure  to 
send  not  less  than  a  score  of  men,  if  possible.  He  himself, 
at  a  place  agreed  upon,  and  fit  for  an  ambuscade,  would 


COMPELLED  TO  VOLUNTEER.  64? 

call  a  halt,  and  contrive  in  the  darkness  to  pour  a  little 
water  into  the  priming  of  his  company^s  guns. 

It  cost  us  some  trouble  and  a  great  deal  of  money  to 
bring  the  sturdy  Cornishman  into  this  deceitful  part;  and 
perhaps  he  never  would  have  consented  but  for  his  obliga- 
tion to  me,  and  the  wrongs  (as  he  said)  of  his  daughter. 
However,  as  he  was  the  man  for  the  task,  both  from  his 
coolness  and  courage,  and  being  known  to  have  charge  of 
the  mine,  I  pressed  him,  until  he  undertook  to  tell  all  the 
lies  we  required.  And  right  well  he  did  it  too,  having 
once  made  up  his  mind  to  it,  and  perceiving  that  his  own 
interests  called  for  the  total  destruction  of  the  robbers. 


e48  LOBNA  DOONE. 


CHAPTER  LXXI. 

A   LONG   ACCOUNT  SETTLED. 

Having  resolved  on  a  night  assault  (as  our  undisci- 
plined men,  three-fourths  of  whom  had  never  been  shot  at, 
could  not  fairly  be  expected  to  march  up  to  visible  musket- 
mouths),  we  cared  not  much  about  drilling  our  forces,  only 
to  teach  them  to  hold  a  musket,  so  far  as  we  could  supply 
that  weapon  to  those  with  the  cleverest  eyes,  and  to  give 
them  familiarity  with  the  noise  it  made  in  exploding.  And 
we  fixed  upon  Friday  night  for  our  venture,  because  the 
moon  would  be  at  the  full,  and  our  powder  was  coming 
from  Dulverton  on  the  Friday  afternoon. 

Uncle  Reuben  did  not  mean  to  expose  himself  to  shoot- 
ing, his  time  of  life  for  risk  of  life  being  now  well  over, 
and  the  residue  too  valuable.  But  his  counsels,  and  his 
influence,  and  above  all  his  warehousemen,  well  practiced 
in  beating  cai'pets,  were  of  true  service  to  us.  His  miners 
also  did  great  wonders,  having  a  grudge  against  the  Doones; 
as  indeed  who  had  not  for  thirty  miles  round  their  valley? 

It  was  settled  that  the  yeomen,  having  good  horses  under 
them,  should  give  account  (with  the  miners^  help)  of  as 
many  Doones  as  might  be  dispatched  to  plunder  the  pre- 
tended gold.  And  as  soon  as  we  knew  that  this  party  of 
robbers,  be  it  more  or  less,  was  out  of  hearing  from  the 
valley,  we  were  to  fall  to,  ostensibly  at  the  Doone-gate 
(which  was  impregnable  now),  but  in  realty  upon  their  rear, 
by  means  of  my  old  water-slide.  For  I  had  chosen  twenty 
young  fellows,  partly  miners,  and  partly  warehousemen, 
and  sheep  farmers,  and  some  of  other  vocations,  but  all  to 
be  relied  upon  for  spirit  and  power  of  climbing.  And 
with  proper  tools  to  aid  us,  and  myself  to  lead  the  way,  I 
felt  no  doubt  whatever  but  that  we  could  all  attain  the 
crest,  where  first  I  had  met  with  Lorna. 

Upon  the  whole,  I  rejoiced  that  Lorna  was  not  present 


A  LONG  ACCOUNT  SETTLED.  649 

now.  It  must  have  been  irksome  to  her  feelings  to  have 
all  her  kindred  and  old  associates  (much  as  she  kept  aloof 
from  them) put  to  death  without  ceremony,  or  else  putting 
all  of  us  to  death.  For  all  of  us  were  resolved  this  time 
to  have  no  more  shilly-shallying,  but  to  go  through  with  a 
nasty  business  in  the  style  of  honest  Englishmen,  when  the 
question  comes  to  "Your  life,  or  mine." 

There  was  hardly  a  man  among  us  who  had  not  suffered 
bitterly  from  the  miscreants  now  before  us.  One  had  lost 
his  wife  perhaps,  another  had  lost  a  daughter — according 
to  their  ages;  another  had  lost  his  favorite  cow;  in  a  word, 
there  was  scarcely  any  one  who  had  not  to  complain  of  a 
hay-rick;  and  what  surprised  me  then,  not  now,  was  that 
the  men  least  injured  made  the  greatest  pusk  concerning 
it.  But  be  the  wrong  too  great  to  speak  of,  or  too  small 
to  swear  about,  from  poor  Kit  Badcock  to  rich  Master 
Huckaback,  there  was  not  one  but  went  heart  and  soul  for 
stamping  out  these  fire-brands. 

The  moon  was  lifting  well  above  the  shoulder  of  the  up- 
lands when  we,  the  chosen  band,  set  forth,  having  the  short 
cut  along  the  valleys  to  foot  of  the  Bagworthy  water,  and 
therefore  having  allowed  the  rest  an  hour  to  fetch  round 
the  moors  and  hills;  we  were  not  to  begin  our  climb  until 
we  heard  a  musket  fired  from  the  heights  on  the  left-hand 
side,  where  John  Fry  himself  was  stationed,  upon  his  own 
and  his  wife's  request,  so  as  to  keep  out  of  action.  And 
that  was  the  place  where  I  had  been  used  to  sit,  and  to 
watch  for  Lorna.  And  John  Fry  was  to  fire  his  gun,  with 
a  ball  of  wool  inside  it,  so  soon  as  he  heard  the  hurly-burly 
at  the  Doone-gate  beginning;  which  wc,  by  reason  of  water- 
fall, could  not  hear  down  in  the  meadows  there. 

We  waited  a  very  long  time,  with  the  moon  marching 
up  heaven  steadfastly,  and  the  white  fog  trembling  in 
chords  and  columns,  like  a  silver  harp  of  the  meadows. 
And  then  the  moon  drew  up  the  fogs,  and  scarfed  herself 
in  white  with  them;  and  so  being  proud,  gleamed  upon  the 
water  like  a  bride  at  her  looking-glass;  and  yet  there  was 
no  sound  of  either  John  Fry  or  his  blunderbuss. 

I  began  to  think  that  the  worthy  John,  being  out  of  all 
danger,  and  having  brought  a  counterpane  (according  to 
his  wife^s  directions,  because  one  of  the  children  had  a  cold), 
must  veritably  have  gone  to  sleep,  leaving  other  people  to 


650  LORNA  DOONE. 

kill,  or  be  killed,  as  might  be  the  will  of  God,  so  that  he 
were  comfortable.  But  herein  I  did  wron^  to  John,  and 
am  ready  to  acknowledge  it;  for  suddenly  the  most  awful 
noise  that  any  thing  short  of  thunder  could  make  came 
down  among~  the  rocks,  and  went  and  hung  upon  the 
corners. 

"The  signal,  my  lads!''  I  cried,  leaping  up  and  rubbing 
my  eyes;  for  even  now,  while  condemning  John  unjustly, 
I  was  giving  him  right  to  be  hard  upon  me.  **  Now  hold 
on  by  the  rope,  and  lay  your  quarter-staffs  across,  my  lads, 
and  keep  your  guns  pointing  to  heaven,  lest  haply  we  shoot 
one  another." 

"  Us  sha'n't  never  shutt  one  anoother,  wi'  our  goons  at 
that  mark,  I  reckon,''  said  an  oldish  chap,  but  as  tough  as 
leather,  and  esteemed  a  wit  for  his  dryness. 

"  You  come  next  to  me,  old  Ike;  you  be  enough  to  dry 
up  the  waters:  now,  remember,  all  lean  well  forward.  If 
any  man  throws  his  weight  back,  down  he  goes,  and  per- 
haps he  may  never  get  up  at  all;  and  most  likely  he  will 
shoot  himself." 

I  was  still  more  afraid  of  their  shooting  me;  for  my  chief 
alarm  in  this  steep  ascent  was  neither  of  the  water  nor  of 
the  rocks,  but  of  the  loaded  guns  we  bore.  If  any  man 
slipped,  off  might  go  the  gun;  and  however  good  his  mean- 
ing, I  being  first  was  most  likely  to  take  far  more  than  I 
fain  would  apprehend. 

For  this  cause  I  had  debated  with  Uncle  Ben  and  with 
Cousin  Tom  as  to  the  expediency  of  our  climbing  with 
guns  unloaded.  But  they,  not  being  in  the  way  them- 
selves, assured  me  that  there  was  nothing  to  fear,  except 
through  uncommon  clumsiness;  and  that  as  for  charging 
our  guns  at  the  top,  even  veteran  troops  could  scarce  be 
trusted  to  perform  it  properly  in  the  hurry,  and  the  dark- 
ness, and  the  noise  of  fighting  before  them. 

However,  thank  God,  though  a  gun  went  off,  no  one  was 
any  the  worse  for  it,  neither  did  the  Doones  notice  it,  in 
the  thick  of  the  firing  in  front  of  them.  For  the  orders  to 
those  of  the  sham  attack,  conducted  by  Tom  Faggus,  were 
to  make  tlie  greatest  possible  noise,  without  exposure  of 
themselves,  until  we  in  the  rear  had  fallen  to,  which  John 
Fry  was  again  to  give  signal  of. 

Therefore,  we  of  the  chosen  band  stole  up  the  meadow 


A  LONG  ACCOUNT  SETTLED.  651 

quietly,  keeping  in  the  blots  of  shade,  and  hollow  of  the 
water-course.  And  the  earliest  notice  the  Counselor  had, 
or  any  one  else,  of  our  presence,  was  the  blazing  of  the 
log-wood  house  where  lived  that  villain  Carver.  It  was  my 
especial  privilege  to  set  this  house  on  fire;  upon  which  I 
had  insisted,  exclusively,  and  conclusively.  No  other  hand 
but  mine  should  lay  a  brand,  or  strike  steel  on  flint 
for  it;  I  had  made  all  preparations  carefully  for  a  goodly 
blaze.  And  I  must  confess  that  I  rubbed  my  hands  with  a 
strong  delight  and  comfort  when  I  saw  the  home  of  that 
man,  who  had  fired  so  many  houses,  having  its  turn  of 
smoke,  and  blaze,  and  of  crackling  fury. 

We  took  good  care,  however,  to  burn  no  innocent  women 
or  children  in  that  most  righteous  destruction.  For  we 
brought  them  all  out  beforehand;  some  were  glad,  and 
some  were  sorry,  according  to  their  dispositions.  For 
Carver  had  ten  or  a  dozen  wives;  and  perhaps  that  had 
something  to  do  with  his  taking  the  loss  of  Lorna  so 
easily.  One  child  I  noticed,  as  I  saved  him;  a  fair  and 
handsome  little  fellow,  whom  (if  Carver  Doone  could  love 
anything  on  earth  beside  his  wretched  self)  he  did  love. 
The  boy  climbed  on  my  back  and  rode;  and  much  as  I 
hated  his  father,  it  was  not  in  my  heart  to  say  or  do  a 
thing  to  vex  him. 

Leaving  these  poor  injured  people  to  behold  their  burn- 
ing home,  we  drew  aside,  by  my  directions,  into  the  covert 
beneath  the  cliff.  But  not  before  we  had  laid  our  brands 
to  three  other  houses,  after  calling  the  women  forth,  and 
bidding  them  go  for  their  husbands  to  come  and  fight  a 
hundred  of  us.  In  the  smoke,  and  rush,  and  fire,  they 
believed  that  we  were  a  hundred;  and  away  they  ran,  in 
consternation,  to  the  battle  at  the  Doone-gate. 

*'A11  Doone-town  is  on  fire,  on  fire!"  we  heard  them 
shrieking  as  they  went:  "a  hundred  soldiers  are  burning 
it,  with  a  dreadful  great  man  at  the  head  of  them!" 

Presently,  just  as  I  expected",  back  came  the  warriors  of 
the  Doones,  leaving  but  two  or  three  at  the  gate,  and 
burning  with  wrath  to  crush  under  foot  the  presumptuous 
clowns  in  their  valley.  Just  then  the  waxing  fire  leaped 
above  the  red  crest  of  the  cliffs,  and  danced  on  the  pillars 
of  the  forest,  and  lapped  like  a  tide  on  the  stones  of  the 
elope.     All  the  valley  flowed  with  light,  and  the  limped 


65'2  LoUNA  BOONE. 

waters  reddened,  and  the  fair  yonng  women  shone,  and 
the  naked  children  glistened. 

But  the  finest  sight  of  all  was  to  see  those  haughty  men 
striding  down  the  causeway  darkly,  reckless  of  their  end, 
but  resolute  to  have  two  lives  for  every  one.  A  finer  dozen 
of  young  men  could  not  have  been  found  in  the  world 
perhaps,  nor  a  braver,  nor  a  viler  one. 

Seeing  how  few  there  were  of  them,  I  was  very  loath  to 
fire,  although  I  covered  the  leader,  who  appeared  to  be 
dashing  Charlie;  for  they  were  at  easy  distance  now, 
brightly  shown  by  the  fire-light,  yet  ignorant  where  to  look 
for  us.  I  thought  that  we  might  take  them  prisoners — 
though  what  good  that  could  be  God  knows,  as  they 
must  have  been  hanged  thereafter — anyhow  I  was  loath  to 
shoot,  or  to  give  the  word  to  my  followers. 

But  my  followers  waited  for  no  word;  they  saw  a  fair 
shot  at  the  men  they  abhorred,  the  men  who  had  robbed 
them  of  home  or  of  love;  and  the  chance  was  too  much 
for  their  charity.  At  a  signal  from  old  Ikey,  who  leveled 
his  own  gun  first,  a  dozen  muskets  were  discharged,  and  half 
of  the  Doones  dropped  lifeless,  like  so  many  logs  of  fire- 
wood, or  chopping-blocks  rolled  over. 

Although  I  had  seen  a  great  battle  before,  and  a  hun- 
dred times  the  carnage,  this  appeared  to  me  to  be  horrible; 
and  I  was  at  first  inclined  to  fall  upon  our  men  for 
behaving  so.  But  one  instant  showed  me  that  they  were 
right:  for  while  the  valley  was  filled  with  howling,  and 
with  shrieks  of  women,  and  the  beams  of  the  blazing 
houses  fell  and  hissed  in  the  bubbling  river,  all  the  rest  of 
the  Doones  leaped  at  us  like  so  many  demons.  They  fired 
wildly,  not  seeing  us  well  among  the  hazel-bushes;  and 
then  they  clubbed  their  muskets,  or  drew  their  swords,  as 
might  be,  and  furiously  drove  at  us. 

For  a  moment,  although  we  were  twice  their  number, 
we  fell  back  before  their  valorous  fame,  and  the  power  of 
their  onset.  For  my  part,  admiring  their  courage  greatly, 
and  counting  it  slur  upon  manliness  that  two  should  be 
down  upon  one  so,  I  withheld  my  hand  a  while,  for  I  cared 
to  meet  none  but  Carver;  and  he  was  not  among  them. 
The  whirl  and  hurry  of  this  fight,  and  the  hard  blows 
raining  down — for  now  all  guns  were  empty — took  away 
xny  power  of  seeing,  or  reasoning  upon  anything.     Yet  one 


A  LONO  ACCOUNT  SETTLED.  653 

thing  I  saw  which  dwelt  long  with  me;  and  that  was 
Christopher  Badcock  spending  his  life  to  get  Charley's. 

How  he  had  found  out,  none  may  tell,  both  being  dead 
so  long  ago;  but,  at  any  rate,  he  had  found  out  that 
Charlie  was  the  man  who  had  robbed  him  of  his  wife  and 
honor.  It  was  Carver  Doone  who  took  her  away,  but 
Charleworth  Doone  was  beside  him;  and,  according  to 
cast  of  dice,  she  fell  to  Charlie's  share.  All  this  Kit 
Badcock  (who  was  mad,  according  to  our  measures)  had 
discovered  and  treasured  up;  and  now  was  his  revenge- 
time. 

He  had  come  into  the  conflict  without  a  weapon  of  any 
kind,  only  begging  me  to  let  him  be  in  the  very  thick  of 
it.  Fcr  him,  he  said,  life  was  no  matter,  after  the  loss  of 
his  wife  and  child;  but  death  was  matter  to  him,  and  he 
meant  to  make  the  most  of  it.  Such  a  face  I  never  saw, 
and  never  hope  to  see  again,  as  when  poor  Kit  Badcock 
spied  Charlie  coming  toward  us. 

We  had  thought  this  man  a  patient  fool,  a  philosopher 
of  a  little  sort,  or  one  who  could  feel  nothing.  And  his 
quiet  manner  of  going  about,  and  the  gentleness  of  his  an- 
swers (and  some  brutes  asked  him  where  his  wife  was,  and 
whether  his  baby  had  been  well  trussed),  these  had  misled 
us  to  think  that  the  man  would  turn  the  mild  cheek  to 
everything.  But  I,  in  the  loneliness  of  our  barn,  had 
listened,  and  had  wept  with  him. 

Therefore  was  I  not  surprised,  so  much  as  all  the  rest  of 
us,  when  in  the  foremost  of  red  light.  Kit  went  up  to 
Charleworth  Doone,  as  if  to  some  inheritance,  and  took 
his  seisin  of  right  upon  him,  being  himself  a  powerful 
man,  and  begged  a  word  aside  with  him.  What  they  said 
aside,  I  know  not:  all  I  know  is  that,  without  weapon, 
each  man  killed  the  other.  And  Margery  Badcock  came, 
and  wept,  and  hung  upon  her  poor  husband,  and  died  that 
summer  of  heart-disease. 

Now  for  these  and  other  things  (whereof  I  could  tell  a 
thousand)  was  the  reckoning  come  that  night;  and  not  a 
line  we  missed  of  it,  soon  as  our  bad  blood  was  up.  I  like 
not  to  tell  of  slaughter,  though  it  might  be  of  wolves  and 
tigers;  and  that  was  a  night  of  fire  and  slaughter,  and  a  very 
long  harbored  revenge.  Enough  that  ere  the  daylight  broke 
upon  that  wan  March  morning,  the  only  Doones  still  left 


654  LOnNA  DOONE. 

alive  were  the  Counselor  and  Carver.  And  of  all  the 
dwellings  of  the  Doones  (inhabited  with  luxury,  and 
luscious  taste,  and  licentiousness)  not  even  one  was  left, 
but  all  made  potash  in  the  river. 

This  may  seem  a  violent  and  unholy  revenge  upon  them. 
And  I  (who  led  the  heart  of  it)  have  in  these  my  latter 
years  doubted  how  I  shall  be  judged,  not  of  men — for  God 
only  knows  the  error  of  man's  judgments — but  by  that 
great  God  himself  the  front  of  whose  forehead  is  mercy. 


TMB  GomSELOR  AJ^D  TMB  GARVBB,  C55 


CHAPTER  LXXII. 

THE   COUNSELOR   AND  THE   CARVER. 

From  that  great  confusion — for  nothing  can  be  broken 
up,  whether  lawful  or  unlawful,  without  a  vast  amount  of 
dust,  and  many  people  grumbling,  and  mourning  for  the 
good  old  times,  when  all  the  world  was  happiness  and 
every  man  a  gentleman,  and  the  sun  himself  far  brighter 
than  since  the  brassy  idol  upon  which  he  shone  was  broken 
— from  all  this  loss  of  ancient  landmarks  (as  unrobbed 
men  began  to  call  our  clearance  of  those  murderers)  we 
returned  on  the  following  day,  almost  as  full  of  anxiety  as 
we  were  of  triumph.  In  the  first  place,  what  could  we 
possibly  do  with  all  these  women  and  children,  thrown  on 
our  hands,  as  one  might  say,  with  none  to  protect  and 
care  for  them?  Again,  how  should  we  answer  to  the 
justices  of  tlie  peace,  or  perhaps  even  the  Lord  Jeffreys, 
for  having,  without  even  a  warrant,  taken  the  law  into  our 
own  hands,  and  abated  our  nuisance  so  forcibly?  And 
then,  what  was  to  be  done  with  the  spoils  which  was  of 
great  value,  though  the  diamond  necklace  came  not  to 
public  light?  For  we  saw  a  mighty  host  of  claimants 
already  leaping  up  for  booty.  Every  man  who  had  ever 
been  robbed  expected  usury  on  his  loss:  the  lords  of  the 
manors  demanded  the  whole;  and  so  did  the  King's  Com- 
missioner of  Revenue  at  Porlock;  and  so  did  the  men  who 
had  fought  our  battle;  while  even  the  parsons,  both 
Bowden  and  Powell,  and  another  who  had  no  parish  in  it, 
threatened  us  with  the  just  wrath  of  the  Church,  unless 
each  had  tithes  of  the  whole  of  it. 

Now  this  was  not  as  it  ought  to  be;  and  it  seemed  as  if, 
by  burning  the  nest  of  robbers,  we  had  but  hatched  their 
eggs;  until  being  made  sole  guardian  of  the  captured 
treasure  (by  reason  of  my  known  honesty)  I  hit  upon  a 
plan  which  gave  very  little  satisfaction,  yet  carried  this 


656  LOiiNA  DOONE. 

advantage,  that  the  grumblers  argued  against  one  another, 
and  for  the  most  part  came  to  blows;  which  renewed  their 
good-will  to  me  as  being  abused  by  the  adversary. 

And  my  plan  was  no  more  than  this — not  to  pay  a 
farthing  to  lord  or  manor,  parson,  or  even  King's  Com- 
missioner, but  after  making  good  some  of  the  recent  and 
proven  losses — where  the  men  could  not  afford  to  lose — to 
pay  the  residue  (vvhicli  might  be  worth  some  fifty  thousand 
pounds)  into  the  Exchequer  at  Westminster,  and  then  let 
all  the  claimants  file  what  bills  they  pleased  in  Chancery. 

Now  this  was  a  very  noble  device,  for  the  mere  name  of 
Chancery,  and  the  high  repute  of  the  fees  therein,  and  low 
repute  of  the  lawyers,  and  the  comfortable  knowledge  that 
the  wool-sack  itself  is  the  golden  fleece,  absorbing  gold  for- 
ever, if  the  standard  be  but  pure;  consideration  of  these 
things  staved  otf  at  once  the  lords  of  the  manors,  and  all 
the  little  farmers,  and  even  those  whom  most  I  feared; 
videlicet,  the  parsons.  And  the  King's  Commissioner  was 
compelled  to  profess  himself  contented,  although  of  all  he 
was  most  aggrieved,  for  his  pickings  would  have  been 
goodly. 

Moreover,  by  this  plan  I  made — although  I  never  thought 
of  that — a  mighty  friend  wortli  all  the  enemies  whom  the 
loss  of  money  moved.  The  first  man  now  in  the  kingdom 
(by  virtue,  perhaps,  of  energy  rather  than  of  excellence) 
was  the  great  Lord  Jeffreys,  appointed  the  head  of  the 
Equity,  as  well  as  the  law  of  the  realm,  for  his  kindness  in 
hanging  five  hundred  people,  without  the  mere  grief  of 
trial.  Nine  out  of  ten  of  these  people  were  innocent,  it 
was  true;  but  that  proved  the  merit  of  the  Lord  Chief- 
justice  so  much  the  greater  for  hanging  them,  as  showing 
what  might  be  expected  of  him  when  he  truly  got  hold  of 
a  guilty  man.  Now  the  King  had  seen  the  force  of  this 
argument;  and  not  being  without  gratitude  for  a  high- 
seasoned  dish  of  cruelty,  had  promoted  the  only  man  in 
England  combining  the  gifts  both  of  butcher  and  cook. 

Nevertheless,  I  do  beg  you  all  to  believe  of  me — and  I 
think  that,  after  following  me  so  long,  you  must  believe 
it — that  I  did  not  even  know  at  the  time  of  Lord  Jeffrey's 
high  promotion.  Not  that  my  knowledge  of  this  would 
have  led  me  to  act  otherwise  in  the  matter,  for  my  object 
was  to  pay  into  an  office,  and  not  to  any  official;  neither. 


THE  COUNSELOR  AND  THE  CAUVER.  65? 

if  I  had  known  the  fact,  could  I  have  seen  its  bearing  upon 
the  receipt  of  my  money.  For  the  King's  Exchequer  is, 
meseemeth,  of  the  Common  Law;  while  Chancery  is  of 
Equity,  and  well  named  for  its  many  chances.  But  the 
true  result  of  the  thing  was  this:  Lord  Jeffreys  being  now 
head  of  the  law,  and  almost  head  of  the  kingdom,  got 
possession  of  that  money,  and  was  kindly  pleased  with  it. 

And  this  met  our  second  difficulty;  for  the  law  having 
won  and  laughed  over  the  spoil,  must  have  injured  its  own 
title  by  impugning  our  legality. 

Next,  with  regard  to  the  women  and  children,  we  were 
long  in  a  state  of  perplexity.  We  did  our  very  best  at  the 
farm,  and  so  did  many  others,  to  provide  for  them  until 
they  should  manage  about  their  own  subsistence.  And 
after  a  while  this  trouble  went,  as  nearly  all  troubles  go 
with  time.  Some  of  the  women  were  taken  back  by  their 
parents,  or  their  husbands,  or  it  may  be  their  sweethearts; 
and  those  who  failed  of  this  went  forth,  some  upon  their 
own  account  to  the  New  World  plantations,  where  the 
fairer  sex  is  valuable,  and  some  to  English  cities,  and  the 
plainer  ones  to  field-work.  And  most  of  the  children  went 
with  their  mothers  or  were  bound  apprentices;  only  Carver 
Doone's  handsome  child  had  lost  his  mother,  and  stayed 
with  me. 

This  boy  went  about  with  me  everywhere.  He  had 
taken  as  much  of  liking  to  me — first  ^hone  in  his  eyes  by 
the  fire-light — as  his  father  had  of  hatred;  <ind  I,  perceiv- 
ing his  noble  courage,  scorn  of  lies,  and  high  spirit,  became 
almost  as  fond  of  Ensie  as  he  was  of  me.  He  told  us  that 
his  name  was  "Ensie" — meant  for  "  Ensor,"  I  suppose, 
from  his  father's  grandfather,  the  old  Sir  Ensor  Doone. 
And  this  boy  appeared  to  be  Carver's  heir,  having  been 
born  in  wedlock,  contrary  to  the  general  manner  and 
custom  of  the  Doones. 

However,  although  I  loved  the  poor  child,  I  could  not 
help  feeling  very  uneasy  about  the  escape  of  his  father,  the 
savage  and  brutal  Carver.  This  man  was  left  to  roam  the 
country,  homeless,  foodless  and  desperate,  with  his  giant 
strength,  and  great  skill  in  arms,  and  the  whole  world  to 
be  revenged  upon.  For  his  escape,  the  miners,  as  I  shall 
show,  were  answerable;  but  of  the  Counselors  safe  de- 
parture the  burden  lay  on  myself  alone.     And  inasmuch 


658  LOUNA  DOOJ^M, 

as  there  are  people  who  consider  themselves  ill-used  unless 
one  tells  them  everything,  straightened  though  I  am  for 
space,  I  will  glance  at  this  transaction. 

After  the  desperate  charge  of  the  young  Doones  had 
been  met  by  us  and  broken,  and  iust  as  poor  Kit  Badcock 
died  in  the  arms  of  the  dead  Charlie,  I  happened  to  descry 
a  patch  of  white  on  the  grass  of  the  meadow  like  the  head 
of  a  sheep  after  washing-day.  Observing  with  some 
curiosity  how  carefully  this  white  thing  moved  along  the 
bars  of  darkness  betwixt  tlie  panels  of  fire-light,  I  ran  up 
to  intercept  it  before  it  reached  the  little  postern  which  we 
used  to  call  Gwenny's  door.  Perceiving  me  the  white 
thing  stopped,  and  was  for  making  back  again,  but  I  ran 
up  at  full  speed;  and  lo,  it  was  the  flowing  silvery  hair  of 
that  sage  the  Counselor,  who  was  scuttling  away  upon  all- 
fours,  but  now  rose  and  confronted  me. 

"John,'' he  said,  "Sir  John,  you  will  not  play  falsely 
with  your  ancient  friend  among  those  violent  fellows.  I 
look  to  you  to  protect  me,  John." 

"Honored  sir,  you  are  right,"  I  replied;  "but  surely 
that  posture  was  unworthy  of  yourself,  and  your  many 
resources.     It  is  my  intention  to  let  you  go  free." 

"  I  knew  it.  I  could  have  sworn  to  it.  You  are  a 
noble  fellow,  John.  I  said  so  from  the  very  first;  you  are 
a  noble  fellow,  and  an  ornament  to  any  rank." 

"But  upon  two  conditions,"  I  added,  gently  taking  him 
by  the  arm;  for  instead  of  displaying  any  desire  for  com- 
mune with  my  nobility,  he  was  edging  away  toward  the 
postern.  "  The  first  is  that  you  tell  me  truly  (for  now  it 
can  matter  to  none  of  you)  who  was  it  that  slew  my 
father." 

"  I  will  tell  you  truly  and  frankly,  John,  however  pain- 
ful to  me  to  confess  it.     It  was  my  son.  Carver." 

"  I  thought  as  much,  or  I  felt  as  much,  all  along,"  I 
answered;  "but  the  fault  was  none  of  yours,  sir;  for  you 
were  not  even  present." 

"If  I  had  been  there,  it  Avould  not  have  happened.  I 
am  always  opposed  to  violence.  Therefore,  let  me  haste 
away;  this  scene  is  against  my  nature." 

"  You  shall  go  directly,  Sir  Counselor,  after  meeting  my 
other  condition;  which  is,  that  you  place  in  my  hands 
Lady  Lorna's  diamond  necklace." 


THE  COUNSELOR  AND  THE  CARVER.  659 

"Ah!  how  often  I  have  wished,"  said  the  old  man,  with 
a  heavy  sigh,  "  that  it  might  yet  be  in  my  power  to  ease 
my  mind  in  that  respect,  and  do  a  thoroughly  good  deed  by 
lawful  restitution." 

**  Then  try  to  have  it  in  your  power,  sir.  Surely,  with 
my  encouragement,  you  might  summon  resolution." 

"Alas,  John,  the  resolution  has  been  ready  long  ago. 
But  the  thing  is  not  in  my  possession.  Carver,  my  son, 
who  slew  your  father,  upon  him  you  will  find  the  necklace. 
What  are  jewels  to  me,  young  man,  at  my  time  of  life? 
Baubles  and  trash — I  detest  them,  from  the  sins  they  have 
led  me  to  answer  for.  When  you  come  to  my  age,  good 
Sir  John,  you  will  scorn  all  jewels,  and  care  only  for  a  pure 
and  bright  conscience.  Ah!  ah!  Let  me  go.  I  have 
made  my  peace  with  God." 

He  looked  so  hoary,  and  so  silvery,  and  serene  in  the 
moonlight,  that  verily  I  must  have  believed  him,  if  he  had 
not  drawn  in  his  breast.  But  I  happened  to  have  noticed  that 
when  an  honest  man  gives  vent  to  noble  and  great  senti- 
ments, he  spreads  his  breast,  and  throws  it  out,  as  if  his 
heart  were  swelling;  whereas  I  had  seen  this  old  gentlemen 
draw  in  his  breast  more  than  once,  as  if  it  happened  to  con- 
tain better  goods  than  sentiment. 

"  Will  you  applaud  me,  kind  sir,"  I  said,  keeping  him 
very  tight  all  the  while,  "  if  I  place  it  in  your  power  to 
ratify  your  peace  with  God?  The  pledge  is  upon  your 
heart,  no  doubt;  for  there  it  lies  at  this  moment." 

With  these  words,  and  some  apology  for  having  recourse 
to  strong  measures,  I  thrust  my  hand  inside  his  waistcoat 
and  drew  forth  Lorna's  necklace,  purely  sparkling  in  the 
moonlight  like  the  dancing  of  new  stars.  The  old  man 
made  a  stab  at  me  with  a  knife  which  I  had  not  espied; 
but  the  vicious  onset  failed,  and  then  he  knelt,  and  clasped 
his  hands. 

"  Oh,  for  God's  sake,  John,  my  son,  rob  me  not  in  that 
manner.  They  belong  to  me,  and  I  love  them  so;  I  would 
give  almost  my  life  for  them.  There  is  one  jewel  there  I 
can  look  at  for  hours,  and  see  all  the  lights  of  heaven  in  it, 
which  I  never  shall  see  elsewhere.  All  my  wretched,  wicked 
life — oh,  John,  I  am  a  sad  hypocrite — but  give  me  back 
my  jewels.  Or  else  kill  me  here.  I  am  a  babe  in  your 
hands;  but  I  must  have  back  my  jewels," 


660  LORNA  BOONE. 

His  beautiful  white  hair  fell  away  from  his  noble  fore- 
head, like  a  silver  wreath  of  glory,  and  his  powerful  face 
for  once  was  moved  with  real  emotion.  I  was  so  amazed  and 
overcome  by  the  grand  contradictions  of  nature,  that, 
verily,  I  was  on  the  point  of  giving  him  back  the  necklace. 
But  honesty,  which  is  said  to  be  the  first  instinct  of  all 
Ridds  (though  I  myself  never  found  it  so),  happened  here 
to  occur  to  me;  and  so  I  said,  without  more  haste  than 
might  be  expected. 

**  Sir  Counselor,  I  cannot  give  you  what  does  not  belong 
to  me.  But  if  you  will  show  me  that  particular  diamond 
which  is  heaven  to  you,  I  will  take  upon  myself  the  risk 
and  the  folly  of  cutting  it  out  for  you.  And  with  that 
you  must  go  contented;  and  I  beseech  you  not  to  starve 
with  that  jewel  upon  your  lips.'' 

Seeing  no  hope  of  better  terms,  he  showed  me  his  pet 
love  of  a  jewel;  and  I  thought  of  what  Lorna  was  to  me, 
as  I  cut  it  out  (with  the  hinge  of  my  knife  severing  tlie 
snakes  of  gold)  and  placed  it  in  his  careful  hand.  Another 
moment,  and  he  was  gone,  and  away  through  Gwenny's 
postern;  and  God  knows  what  became  of  him. 

Now  as  to  Carver,  the  thing  was  this:  so  far  as  I  could 
ascertain  from  the  valiant  miners,  no  two  of  whom  told 
the  same  story,  any  more  than  one  of  them  told  it  twice. 
The  band  of  Doones  which  sallied  forth  for  the  robbery  of 
the  pretended  convoy  was  met  by  Simon  Carfax,  according 
to  arrangement,  at  the  ruined  house  called  the  '*  Warren," 
in  that  part  of  Bagworthy  Forest  where  the  river  Exe  (as 
yet  a  very  small  stream)  runs  through  it.  The  Warren,  as 
all  our  people  know,  had  belonged  to  a  fine  old  gentleman, 
whom  every  one  called  "  The  Squire,"  who  had  retreated 
from  active  life  to  pass  the  rest  of  his  days  in  fishing,  and 
shooting,  and  helping  his  neighbors.  For  he  was  a  man 
of  some  substance;  and  no  poor  man  ever  left  the  Warren 
without  a  bag  of  good  victuals,  and  a  few  shillings  put  in 
his  pocket.  However,  this  poor  Squire  never  made  a 
greater  mistake  than  in  hoping  to  end  his  life  peacefully 
upon  the  banks  of  a  trout  stream,  and  in  the  green  forest 
of  Bagworthy.  For  as  he  came  home  from  the  brook  at 
dusk,  with  his  fly-rod  over  his  shoulder,  the  Doones  fell 
upon  him  and  murdered  him,  and  then  sacked  his  house 
and  burned  it. 


THE  COUNSELOR  AND  THE  CARVER.  6G1 

Now  this  had  made  honest  people  timid  about  going  past 
the  Warren  at  night;  for,  of  course,  it  was  said  that 
the  old  Squire  '*  walked/^  upon  certain  nights  of  the  moon, 
in  and  out  the  trunks  of  trees  on  the  green  path  from  the 
river.  On  liis  shoulder  he  bore  a  fishing-rod,  and  his  book 
of  trout-flies  in  one  hand,  and  on  his  back  a  wicker  creel: 
and  now  and  then  he  would  burst  out  laughing  to  think  of 
his  coming  so  near  the  Doones. 

And  now  that  one  turns  to  consider  it,  this  seems 
a  strangely  righteous  thing,  that  the  scene  of  one  of  the 
greatest  crimes  even  by  Doones  committed  should,  after 
twenty  years,  become  the  scene  of  vengeance  falling,  like 
hail  from  heaven,  upon  them.  For  although  the  War- 
ren lies  well  away  to  the  westward  of  the  mine,  and  the 
gold,  under  escort  to  Bristowe  or  London,  would  have  gone 
in  the  other  direction,  Captain  Carfax,  finding  this  place 
best  suited  for  working  of  his  design,  had  persuaded  the 
Doones  that,  for  reasons  of  Government,  the  ore  must  go 
first  to  Barnstaple  for  inspection,  or  something  of  that  sort. 
And  as  every  one  knows  that  our  Government  sends  all 
things  westward  when  eastward  bound,  this  had  won  the 
more  faith  for  Simon,  as  being  according  to  nature. 

Now  Simon,  liaving  met  these  flowers  of  the  flock  of  vil- 
lainy where  the  rising  moonlight  flowed  through  the  weir- 
work  of  the  wood,  begged  them  to  dismount,  and  led  them 
with  an  air  of  mystery  into  the  Squire's  ruined  hall,  black 
with  fire  and  green  with  weeds. 

*^  Captain,  1  have  found  a  thing,"  he  said  to  Carver 
Doone  himself,  '^  which  may  help  to  pass  the  hour  ere  the 
lump  of  gold  comes  by.  The  smugglers  are  a  noble  race, 
but  a  miner's  eyes  are  a  match  for  them.  There  lies  a 
puncheon  of  rare  spirit,  with  the  Dutchman's  brand  upon 
it,  hidden  behind  the  broken  hearth.  Set  a  man  to  watch 
outside,  and  let  us  see  what  this  be  like." 

With  one  accord  they  agreed  to  this,  and  Carver  pledged 
Master  Carfax,  and  all  the  Doones  grew  merry.  But 
Simon  being  bound,  as  he  said,  to  see  to  their  strict  sobri- 
ety, drew  a  bucket  of  water  from  the  well  into  which  they 
had  thrown  the  dead  owner,  and  begged  them  to  mingle  it 
with  their  drink;  which  some  of  them  did,  and  some 
refused. 

But  the  water  from  that  well  was  poured,  while  they 


662  LORNA  BOONE, 

were  carousing,  into  the  priming-pan  of  every  gun  of  theirs, 
oven  as  Simon  had  promised  to  do  with  the  guns  of  the 
men  they  were  come  to  kill.  Then  just  as  the  giant 
Carver  arose,  with  a  glass  of  pure  hollands  in  his  hands, 
and  by  the  light  of  the  torch  they  had  struck  proposed  the 
good  health  of  the  Squire's  ghost,  in  the  broken  door-way 
stood  a  press  of  men,  with  pointed  muskets,  covering  every 
drunken  Doone.  How  it  fared  upon  that  I  know  not, 
having  none  to  tell  me;  for  each  man  wrought,  neither 
thought  of  telling,  nor  whether  he  might  be  alive  to  tell. 
The  Doones  rushed  to  their  guns  at  once,  and  pointed 
them,  and  pulled  at  them;  but  the  Squire's  well  had 
drowned  their  fire:  and  then  they  knew  that  they  were  be- 
trayed, but  resolved  to  fight  like  men  for  it.  Upon  fight- 
ing I  can  never  dwell;  it  breeds  such  savage  delight  in  me, 
of  which  I  would  fain  have  less.  Enough  that  all  the 
Doones  fought  bravely,  and  like  men  (though  bad  ones) 
died  in  the  hall  of  the  man  they  had  murdered.  And  with 
them  died  poor  young  De  Whichehalse,  who,  in  spite  of  all 
his  good  father's  prayers,  had  cast  in  his  lot  with  the  rob- 
bers. Carver  Doone  alone  escaped.  Partly  through  his 
fearful  strength,  and  his  yet  more  fearful  face;  but  mainly, 
perhaps,  through  his  perfect  coolness,  and  his  mode  of 
taking  things. 

I  am  happy  to  say  that  no  more  than  eight  of  the  gallant 
miners  were  killed  in  that  combat,  or  died  of  their  wounds 
afterward;  and  adding  to  these  the  eight  we  had  lost  in  our 
assault  on  the  valley  (and  two  of  them  excellent  warehouse- 
men), it  cost  no  more  than  sixteen  lives  to  be  rid  of  nearly 
forty  Doones,  each  of  whom  would  most  likely  have  killed 
three  men  in  the  course  of  a  year  or  two.  Therefore,  as  I 
said  at  the  time,  a  great  work  was  done  very  reasonably; 
here  were  nigh  upon  forty  Doones  destroyed  (in  the  valley, 
and  up  at  the  Warren),  despite  their  extraordinary 
strength  and  high  skill  in  gunnery;  whereas  of  us  ignorant 
rustics  there  were  only  sixteen  to  be  counted  dead — though 
others  might  be  lamed,  or  so — and  of  those  sixteen  only 
two  had  left  wives,  and  their  wives  did  not  happen  to  care 
for  them. 

Yet,  for  Lorna's  sake,  I  was  vexed  at  the  bold  escape  of 
Carver.  Not  that  I  sought  for  Carver's  life,  any  more  than 
X  did  for  the  Counselor's;  but  that  for  us  it  was  no  light 


THE  COUNSELOR  AND  TEE  CARVER.  663 

thing  to  have  a  man  of  such  power,  and  resource,  and  des- 
peration left  at  large,  and  furious,  like  a  famished  wolf 
round  the  sheep-fold.  Yet  greatly  as  I  blamed  the  yeomen, 
who  were  posted  on  their  horses  just  out  of  shot  from  the 
Doone-gate,  for  the  very  purpose  of  intercepting  those  who 
escaped  the  miners,  I  could  not  get  them  to  admit  that  any 
blame  attached  to  them. 

But  lo,  he  had  dashed  through  the  whole  of  them,  with 
his  horse  at  full  gallop,  and  was  nearly  out  of  shot  before 
they  began  to  think  of  shooting  him.  Then  it  appears 
from  what  a  boy  said — for  boys  manage  to  be  everywhere — 
that  Captain  Carver  rode  through  the  Doone-gate,  and  so 
to  the  head  of  the  valley.  There,  of  course,  he  beheld  all 
the  houses,  and  his  own  among  the  number,  flaming  with  a 
handsome  blaze,  and  throwing  a  fine  light  around,  such  as 
he  had  often  reveled  in,  when  of  other  people's  property. 
But  he  swore  the  deadliest  of  all  oaths;  and  seeing  himself 
to  be  vanquished  (so  far  as  the  luck  of  the  moment  went), 
spurred  his  great  black  horse  away,  and  passed  into  the 
darkness. 


664  LORNA  DOONE, 


CHAPTER  LXXIII. 

HOW  TO   GET   OUT  OF   CHANCERY. 

Things  at  this  time  so  befell  me  that  I  cannot  tell  one 
half,  but  am  liko  a  boy  who  has  left  his  lesson  (to  the 
master's  very  footfall)  unready,  except  with  false  excuses. 
And  as  this  makes  no  good  work,  so  I  lament  upon  my 
lingering  in  the  times  when  I  might  have  got  through  a 
good  page,  but  went  astray  after  trifles.  However,  every 
man  must  do  according  to  his  intellect;  and  looking  at  the 
easy  manner  of  my  constitution,  I  think  that  most  men 
will  regard  me  with  pity  and  good-will  for  trying,  more 
than  with  contempt  and  wrath  for  having  tried  unworthily. 
Even  as  in  the  wrestling  ring,  whatever  man  did  his  very 
best,  and  made  an  honest  conflict,  I  always  laid  him  down 
with  softness,  easing  off  his  dusty  fall. 

But  the  thing  which  next  betided  me  was  not  a  fall  of 
any  sort,  but  rather  a  most  glorious  rise  to  the  summit  of 
all  fortune.  For  in  good  truth  it  was  no  less  than  the  re- 
turn of  Lorna — my  Lorna,  my  own  darling — in  wonderful 
health  and  spirits,  and  as  glad  as  a  bird  to  get  back  again. 
It  would  have  done  any  one  good  for  a  twelvemonth  to  be- 
hold her  face  and  doings,  and  her  beaming  eyes  and  snnle 
(not  to  mention  blushes  also  at  my  salutation),  when  this 
queen  of  every  heart  ran  about  our  rooms  again.  She  did 
love  this,  and  she  must  see  that;  and  where  was  her  old 
friend  the  cat?  All  the  house  was  full  of  brightness,  as  if 
the  sun  had  come  over  the  hill,  and  Lorna  were  his  mirror. 

My  mother  sat  in  an  ancient  chair,  and  wiped  her 
clieeks  and  looked  at  her;  and  even  Lizzie's  eyes  must 
dance  to  the  freshness  and  joy  of  her  beauty.  As  for  me, 
vou  might  call  me  mad,  for  I  ran  out  and  flung  my  best 
hat  on  the  barn,  and  kissed  mother  Fry  till  she  made  at 
me  with  the  sugar-nippers. 

What  a  quantity  of  things  Lorna  had  to  tell  us!    And 


HOW  TO  GET  OUT  OF  CHANCERY.  665 

yet  how  often  we  stopped  her  mouth — at  least  mother,  I 
mean,  and  Lizzie — and  she  quite  as  often  would  stop  her 
own,  running  up  in  her  joy  to  some  one  of  us!  And  then 
there  arose  the  eating  business — which  people  now  call 
"refreshment,"  in  these  dandified  days  of  our  language — 
for  how  was  it  possible  that  our  Lorna  could  have  come  all 
that  way,  and  to  her  own  Exmoor,  without  being  terribly 
hungry? 

**  Oh,  I  do  love  it  all  so  much!"  said  Lorna,  now  for  the 
fiftieth  time,  and  not  meaning  only  the  victuals.  "  The 
scent  of  the  gorse  on  the  moors  drove  me  wild,  and  the 
primroses  under  the  hedges.  I  am  sure  I  was  meant  for  a 
farmer's — I  mean  for  a  farm-house  life,  dear  Lizzie  " — for 
Lizzie  was  looking  saucily — "just  as  you  were  meant  for  a 
soldier's  bride,  and  for  writing  dispatches  of  victory.  And 
now,  since  you  will  not  ask  me,  dear  mother,  in  the  excel- 
lence of  your  manners,  and  even  John  has  not  the  impu- 
dence, in  spite  of  all  his  coat  of  arms — I  must  tell  you  a 
thing,  which  I  vowed  to  keep  until  to-morrow  morning, 
but  my  resolution  fails  me.  I  am  my  own  mistress — what 
think  you  of  that,  mother?    I  am  my  own  mistress!" 

"Then  you  S'hall  not  be  so  long,"  cried  I;  for  mother 
seemed  not  to  understand  her,  and  sought  about  for  her 
glasses.  "  Darling,  you  shall  be  mistress  of  me,  and  I  will 
be  your  master." 

"A  frank  announcement  of  your  intent,  and  beyond 
doubt  a  true  one;  but  surely  unusual  at  this  stage,  and  a 
little  premature,  John.  However,  what  must  be,  must 
be."  And  with  tears  springing  out  of  smiles,  she  fell  on 
my  breast  and  wept  a  bit. 

When  I  came  to  smoke  a  pipe  over  it  (after  the  rest 
were  gone  to  bed),  I  could  hardly  believe  in  my  good  luck. 
For  here  v/as  I,  without  any  merit,  except  of  bodily  power, 
and  the  absence  of  any  falsehood  (which  surely  is  no  com- 
mendation), so  placed  that  the  noblest  man  in  England 
might  envy  me,  and  be  vexed  with  me.  For  the  noblest 
lady  in  all  the  land,  and  the  purest,  and  the  sweetest, 
hung  upon  my  heart,  as  if  there  was  none  to  equal  it. 

I  dwelt  upon  this  matter  long,  and  very  severely,  while  I 
smoked  a  new  tobacco,  brought  by  my  own  Lorna  for  me, 
and  next  to  herself  most  delicious;  and  as  the  smoke  curled 
away,  I  thought,  "  Surely  this  is  too  fine  to  last,  for  a  man 
who  never  deserved  it."    % 


666  LORNA  BOONE. 

Seeing  no  way  out  of  this,  I  resolved  to  place  my  faith 
in  God,  and  so  went  to  bed  and  dreamed  of  it.  And 
having  no  presence  of  mind  to  pray  for  anything,  under 
the  circumstances,  I  thought  it  best  to  fall  asleep  and 
trust  myself  to  the  future.  Yet  ere  I  fell  asleep  the  roof 
above  me  swarmed  with  angels,  having  Lorna  under  it. 

In  the  morning  Lorna  was  ready  to  tell  her  story,  and 
we  to  hearken;  and  she  wore  a  dress  of  most  simple  stuff, 
and  yet  perfectly  wonderful,  by  means  of  the  shape  and 
her  figure.  Lizzie  was  wild  with  jealousy,  as  might  be 
expected  (though  never  would  Annie  have  been  so,  but 
have  praised  it,  and  craved  for  the  pattern);  and  mother, 
not  understanding  it,  looked  forth,  to  be  taught  about  it. 
For  it  was  strange  to  note  that  lately  my  dear  mother  had 
lost  her  quickness,  and  was  never  quite  brisk,  unless  the 
question  were  about  myself.  She  had  seen  a  great  deal  of 
trouble;  and  grief  begins  to  close  on  people  as  their  power 
of  life  declines.  We  said  that  she  was  hard  of  hearing; 
but  my  opinion  was,  that  seeing  me  inclined  for  marriage 
made  her  think  of  my  father,  and  so  perhaps,  a  little  too 
much  to  dwell  upon  the  courting  of  thirty  years  agone. 
Anyhow,  she  was  the  very  best  of  mothers;  and  would 
smile  and  command  herself,  and  be  (or  try  to  believe  her- 
self) as  happy  as  could  be,  in  the  doings  of  the  younger 
folk,  and  her  own  skill  in  detecting  them;  yet,  with  the 
wisdom  of  age,  renouncing  my  opinion  upon  the  matter, 
since  none  could  see  the  end  of  it. 

But  Lorna,  in  her  bright  young  beauty,  and  her  knowl- 
edge of  my  heart,  was  not  to  be  checked  by  any  thoughts 
of  haply  coming  evil.  In  the  morning  she  was  up,  even 
sooner  than  I  was,  and  through  all  the  corners  of  the  hens, 
remembering  every  one  of  them.  I  caught  her,  and  saluted 
her  with  such  warmth  (being  now  none  to  look  at  us), 
that  she  vowed  she  would  never  come  out  again;  and  yet 
she  came  the  next  morning! 

These  things  ought  not  to  be  chronicled.  Yet  I  am  of 
such  nature,  that  finding  many  parts  of  life  adverse  to  our 
wishes,  I  must  now  and  then  draw  pleasure  from  the 
blessed  portions.  And  what  portion  can  be  more  blessed 
than  with  youth,  and  health,  and  strength,  to  be  loved  by 
a  virtuous  maid,  and  to  love  her  with  all  one's  heart? 
Neither  was  my  pride  diminished,  when  I  found  what  she 
had  done,  only  from  her  love  of  ifce. 


EOW  TO  OET  OUT  OF  OBANGERT.  667 

Earl  Brandir's  ancient  steward,  in  whose  charge  she  had 
traveled,  with  a  proper  escort,  looked  upon  her  as  a  lovely 
maniac;  and  the  mixture  of  pity  and  admiration  wherewith 
he  regarded  her  was  a  strange  thing  to  observe,  especially 
after  he  had  seen  our  simple  house  and  manners.  On  the 
other  hand,  Lorna  considered  him  a  worthy  but  foolish  old 
gentleman,  to  whom  true  happiness  meant  no  more  than 
money  and  high  position. 

These  two  last  she  had  been  ready  to  abandon  wholly, 
and  had  in  part  escaped  from  them,  as  the  enemies  of  her 
happiness.  And  she  took  advantage  of  the  times  in  a 
truly  clever  manner.  For  that  happened  to  be  a  time — as 
indeed  all  times  hitherto  (so  far  as  my  knowledge  extends) 
have,  somehow  or  other,  happened  to  be — when  everybody 
was  only  too  glad  to  take  money  for  doing  anything.  And 
the  greatest  money-taker  in  the  kingdom  (next  to  the  King 
and  Queen,  of  course,  who  had  due  pre-eminence,  and  had 
taught  the  maids  of  honor)  was  generally  acknowledged  to 
be  the  Lord  Chief-justice  Jeffreys. 

Upon  his  return  from  the  Bloody  Assizes,  with  triumph 
and  gi'eat  glory,  after  hanging  every  man  who  was  too 
poor  to  help  it,  he  pleased  His  Gracious  Majesty  so  purely 
with  the  description  of  their  delightful  agonies,  that  the 
King  exclaimed,  **  This  man  alone  is  worthy  to  be  at  the 
head  of  the  law."  Accordingly  in  his  hand  was  placed  the 
great  seal  of  England. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  Lorna's  destiny  hung  upon  Lord 
Jeffreys;  for  at  this  time  Earl  Brandir  died,  being  taken 
with  gout  in  the  heart  soon  after  I  left  London.  Lorna 
was  very  sorry  for  him;  but  as  he  had  never  been  able  to 
hear  one  tone  of  her  sweet  silvery  voice,  it  is  not  to  be  sup- 

Eosed  that  she  wept  without  consolation.  She  grieved  for 
im  as  we  ought  to  grieve  for  any  good  man  going,  and 
yet  with  a  comforting  sense  of  the  benefit  which  the  blessed 
exchange  must  bring  to  him. 

Now  the  Lady  Lorna  Dugal  appeared  to  Lord  Chancel- 
lor Jeffreys  so  exceeding  wealthy  a  ward  that  the  lock  would 
pay  for  turning.  Therefore  he  came,  of  his  own  accord, 
to  visit  her,  and  to  treat  with  her;  having  heard  (for  the 
man  was  as  big  a  gossip  as  never  cared  for  any  body,  yet 
loved  to  know  all  about  every  body)  that  this  wealthy  and 
beautiful  maiden  would  not  listen  to  any  young  lord,  having 
pledged  her  faith  to  the  plaki  John  Ridd. 


6(j8  LORN^A  BOOifE. 

Thereupon  our  Lorna  managed  so  to  hold  out  golden 
hopes  to  the  Lord  High  Chancellor,  that  he,  being  not  more 
than  three  parts  drunk,  saw  his  way  to  a  heap  of  money. 
And  there  and  then  (for  he  was  not  the  man  to  dally  long 
about  anything)  upon  surety  of  a  certain  round  sum — the 
amount  of  which  I  will  not  mention,  because  of  his  kind- 
ness toward  me — he  gave  to  his  fair  ward  permission,  under 
sign  and  seal,  to  marry  that  loyal  knight,  John  Ridd,  upon 
condition  only  that  the  King's  consent  should  be  obtained. 

His  Majesty,  well-disposed  toward  me  for  my  previous 
service,  and  regarding  me  as  a  good  Catholic,  being  moved, 
moreover,  by  the  Queen,  who  desired  to  please  Lorna,  con- 
sented, without  much  hesitation,  upon  the  understanding 
that  Lorna,  when  she  became  of  full  age,  and  the  mistress 
of  her  property  (which  was  still  under  guardianship), 
should  pay  a  heavy  fine  to  the  Crown,  and  devote  a  fixed 
portion  of  her  estate  to  the  promotion  of  the  holy  Catholic 
faith,  in  a  manner  to  be  dictated  by  the  King  himself. 
Inasmuch,  however,  as  King  James  was  driven  out  of  his 
kingdom  before  this  arrangement  could  take  effect,  and 
another  king  succeeded,  who  desired  not  the  promotion  of 
the  Catholic  religion,  neither  hankered  after  subsidiec 
(whether  French  or  English),  that  agreement  was  pro- 
nounced invalid,  improper,  and  contemptible.  However, 
there  was  no  getting  back  the  money  once  paid  to  Lord 
Chancellor  Jeffreys. 

But  what  thought  we  of  money  at  this  present  moment, 
or  of  position,  or  anything  else,  except,  indeed,  one  another? 
Lorna  told  me,  with  the  sweetest  smile,  that  if  I  were 
minded  to  take  her  at  all,  I  must  take  her  without  any- 
thing; inasmuch  as  she  meant,  upon  coming  of  age,  to 
make  over  the  residue  of  her  estates  to  the  next  of  kin,  as 
being  unfit  for  a  farmer's  wife.  And  I  replied  with  the  great- 
est warmth,  and  a  readiness  to  worship  her,  that  this  was 
exactly  what  I  longed  for,  but  had  never  dared  to  propose  it. 
But  dear  mother  looked  most  exceeding  grave,  and  said  that 
to  be  sure  her  opinion  could  not  be  expected  to  count  for 
much,  but  she  really  hoped  that  in  three  years'  time  we  should 
both  be  a  little  wiser,  and  have  more  regard  for  our  inter- 
ests, and  perhaps  those  of  others  by  that  time;  and  Master 
Snowe  having  daughters  only,  and  nobody  coming  to  marry 
them,  if  anything  happened  to  the  good  old  man — and  who 


HOW  TO  GET  OVT  OF  CHANCERY.  669 

could  tell  in  three  years^  time  what  might  happen  to  all  or 
any  of  us? — why  perhaps  his  farm  would  be  for  sale,  and 
perhaps  Lady  Lorna's  estates  in  Scotland  would  fetch  enough 
money  to  buy  it,  and  so  throw  the  two  farms  into  one,  and 
save  all  the  trouble  about  the  brook,  as  my  poor  father  had 
longed  to  do  many  and  many  a  time;  but  not  having  a  title, 
could  not  do  all  quite  as  he  wanted.  And  then  if  we  young 
people  grew  tired  of  the  old  mother,  as  seemed  only  too 
likely,  and  was  according  to  nature,  why  we  could  send  her 
over  there,  and  Lizzie  to  keep  her  company. 

When  mother  had  finished  and  wiped  her  eyes,  Lorna, 
who  had  been  blushing  rosily  at  some  portions  of  this  great 
speech,  flung  her  fair  arms  around  mother's  neck,  and 
kissed  her  very  heartily,  and  scolded  her  (as  she  well  de- 
served) for  her  want  of  confidence  in  us.  My  mother 
replied  that  if  anybody  could  deserve  her  John,  it  was 
Lorna;  but  that  she  could  not  hold  with  the  rashness  of 
giving  up  money  so  easily;  while  her  next  of  kin  would 
be  John  himself,  and  who  could  tell  what  others,  by  the 
time  she  was  one-and-twenty? 

Hereupon  I  felt  that,  after  all,  my  mother  had  common 
sense  on  her  side;  for  if  Master  Snowe'sfarm  should  be  for 
sale,  it  would  be  far  more  to  the  purpose  than  my  coat  of 
arms  to  get  it;  for  there  was  a  different  pasture  there,  just 
suited  for  change  of  diet  to  our  sheep  as  well  as  large  cattle. 
And  besides  this,  even  with  all  Annie's  skill  (and  of  course 
yet  more  now  she  was  gone),  their  butter  would  always 
command  in  the  market  from  one  to  three  farthings  a 
pound  more  than  we  could  get  for  ours.  And  few  things 
vexed  us  more  than  this.  W  hereas,  if  we  got  possession  of 
the  farm,  we  might,  without  breach  of  the  market-laws,  or 
any  harm  done  to  anyone  (the  price  being  but  a  prejudice), 
sell  all  our  butter  as  Snowe  butter,  and  do  good  to  all  our 
customers. 

Thinking  thus,  yet  remembering  that  Farmer  Nicholas 
might  hold  out  for  another  score  of  years — as  I  heartily 
hoped  he  might — or  that  one,  if  not  all,  of  his  comely 
daughters  might  marry  a  good  young  farmer  (or  farmers, 
if  the  case  were  so) — or  that,  even  without  that,  the  farm 
might  never  be  put  up  for  sale,  I  begged  my  Lorna  to  do 
as  she  liked,  or  rather  to  wait  and  think  of  it;  for  as  yet 
she  could  do  nothing. 


670  LOBNA  DOOHM. 


CHAPTEK   LXXIV. 

DRIVEIf   BEYOKD   ENDURANCE. 

Every  thing  was  settled  smoothly,  and  without  any  fear 
or  fuss  that  Lorna  might  find  end  of  troubles,  and  my- 
self of  eager  waiting,  with  the  help  of  Parson  Bowden, 
and  the  good  wishes  of  two  counties.  I  could  scarce 
believe  my  fortune  when  I  looked  upon  her  beauty,  gen- 
tleness, and  sweetness,  mingled  with  enough  of  humor, 
and  warm  woman's  feeling,  never  to  be  dull  or  tiring; 
never  themselves  to  be  weary. 

For  she  might  be  called  a  woman  now,  although  a  very 
young  one,  and  as  full  of  playful  ways,  or  perhaps  I  may 
say  ten  times  as  full,  as  if  she  had  known  no  trouble: 
to-wit,  the  spirit  of  bright  childhood,  having  been  so 
curbed  and  straightened  ere  its  time  was  over,  now  broke 
forth,  enriched  and  varied  with  the  garb  of  conscious 
maidenhood.  And  the  sense  of  steadfast  love,  and  eager 
love  enfolding  her,  colored  with  so  many  tinges  all  her 
looks,  and  words,  and  thoughts,  that  to  me  it  was  the 
noblest  vision  even  to  think  about  her. 

But  this  was  far  too  bright  to  last,  without  bitter  break, 
and  the  plunging  of  happiness  in  horror,  and  of  passionate 
joy  in  agony.  My  darling,  in  her  softest  moments,  when 
she  was  alone  with  me,  when  the  spark  of  defiant  eyes  was 
veiled  beneath  dark  lashes,  and  the  challenge  of  gay  beauty 
passed  into  sweetest  invitation;  at  such  times  of  her  purest 
love  and  warmest  faith  in  me,  a  deep  abiding  fear  would 
flutter  in  her  bounding  heart,  as  of  deadly  fate's  approach. 
She  would  cling  to  me,  and  nestle  to  me,  being  scared  of 
coyishness,  and  lay  one  arm  around  my  neck,  and  ask  if  I 
could  do  without  her. 

Hence,  as  all  emotions  haply,  of  those  who  are  more  to 
us  than  ourselves,  find  within  us  stronger  echo,  and  more 
perfect  answer,  so  I  could  not  be  regardless  of  some  hidden 


DRIVEN  BETONB  END  URANCE.  671 

evil,  and  my  dark  misgivings  deepened  as  the  time  drew 
nearer.  I  kept  a -steadfast  watch  on  Lorna,  neglecting  a 
field  of  beans  entirely,  as  well  as  a  litter  of  young  pigs,  and 
a  cow  somewhat  given  to  jaundice.  And  I  let  Jem  Slo- 
come  go  to  sleep  in  the  tallat  all  one  afternoon  and  Bill 
Dadds  draw  off  a  bucket  of  cider,  without  so  much  as  a 
'*  by  your  leave.''  For  these  men  knew  that  my  knight- 
hood, and  my  coat  of  arms,  and  (most  of  all)  my  love, 
were  greatly  against  good  farming:  the  sense  of  our  coun- 
try being — and  perhaps  it  may  be  sensible — that  a  man 
who  sticks  up  to  be  anything  must  allow  himself  to  be 
cheated. 

But  I  never  did  stick  up,  nor  would,  though  all  the 
parish  bade  me;  and  I  whistled  the  same  tunes  to  my 
horses,  and  held  my  plow-tree  just  the  same  as  if  no  King 
nor  Queen  had  ever  come  to  spoil  my  tune  or  hand.  For 
this  thing  nearly  all  the  men  around  our  parts  upbraided 
me,  but  the  women  praised  me;  and  for  the  most  part  these 
are  right,  when  themselves  are  not  concerned. 

However  humble  I  might  be,  no  one  knowing  anything 
of  our  part  of  the  country  would  for  a  moment  doubt  that 
now  here  was  a  great  todo  and  talk  of  John  Ridd  and  his 
wedding.  The  fierce  fight  with  the  Doonjs  so  lately,  and 
my  leading  of  the  combat  (though  I  fought  not  more  than 
need  be),  and  the  vanishing  of  Sir  Counselor,  and  the  gal- 
loping madness  of  Carver,  and  the  religious  fear  of  the 
women  that  this  last  was  gone  to  hell — for  he  himself  had 
declared  that  his  aim,  while  he  cut  through  the  yeomanry — 
also  their  remorse  that  he  should  have  been  made  to  go 
thither,  with  all  his  children  left  behind — these  things,  I 
say  (if  ever  I  can  again  contrive  to  say  anything),  had  led 
to  the  broadest  excitement  about  my  wedding  of  Lorna. 
We  heard  that  people  meant  to  come  from  more  than  thirty 
miles  around,  upon  excuse  of  seeing  my  stature  and 
Lorna's  beauty;  but  in  good  truth,  out  of  sheer  curiosity 
and  the  love  of  meddling. 

Our  clerk  had  given  notice  that  not  a  man  should  come 
inside  the  door  of  his  church  without  shilling-fee,  and 
women  (as  sure  to  see  twice  as  much)  must  every  one  pay 
two  shillings.  I  thought  this  wrong;  and,  as  church- 
warden, begged  that  the  money  might  be  paid  into  mine 
own  hands  when  taken.     But  the  clerk  said  that   was 


^7^  LORNA  BOONE, 

against  all  law;  and  he  had  orders  from  the  parson  to  pay 
it  to  him  without  any  delay.  So,  as  I  always  obey  the 
parson  when  I  care  not  much  about  a  thing,  I  let  them 
have  it  their  own  way,  though  feeling  inclined  to  believe 
sometimes  that  I  ought  to  have  some  of  the  money. 

Dear  mother  arranged  all  the  ins  and  outs  of  the  way 
in  which  it  was  to  be  done;  and  Annie  and  Lizzie,  and  all 
the  Snowes,  and  even  Ruth  Huckaback  (who  was  there, 
after  great  persuasion),  made  such  a  sweeping  of  dresses 
that  I  scarcely  knew  where  to  place  my  feet,  and  longed 
for  a  staff  to  put  by  their  gowns.  Then  Lorna  came  out  of 
a  pew  half-way,  in  a  manner  which  quite  astonished  me, 
and  took  my  left  hand  in  her  right,  and  I  prayed  God  that 
it  were  done  with. 

My  darling  looked  so  glorious  that  I  was  afraid  of  glanc- 
ing at  her,  yet  took  in  all  her  beauty.  She  was  in  a  fright, 
no  doubt,  but  nobody  should  see  it;  whereas  I  said  (to  my- 
self, at  least),  "  I  will  go  through  it  like  a  grave-digger.'^ 

Lorna's  dress  was  of  pure  white,  clouded  with  faint 
lavender  (for  the  sake  of  the  old  Earl  Brandir),  and  as 
simple  as  need  be,  except  for  perfect  loveliness.  I  was 
afraid  to  look  at  her,  as  I  said  before,  except  when  each  of 
us  said,  "I  will;"  and  then  each  dwelt  upon  the  other. 

It  is  impossible  for  any  who  have  not  loved  as  I  have  to 
conceive  my  joy  and  pride  when,  after  ring  and  all  was 
done,  and  the  parson  had  blessed  us,  Lorna  turned  to  look 
at  me  with  her  glances  of  subtle  fun  subdued  by  this  great 
act. 

Her  eyes,  which  none  on  earth  may  ever  equal  or  com- 
pare with,  told  me  such  a  depth  of  comfort,  yet  awaiting 
further  commune,  that  I  was  almost  amazed,  thoroughly 
as  I  knew  them.  Darling  eyes,  the  sweetest  eyes,  the  love- 
liest, the  most  loving  eyes — the  sound  of  a  shot  rang 
through  the  church,  and  those  eyes  were  filled  with  death. 

Lorna  fell  across  my  knees  when  I  was  going  to  kiss  her, 
as  the  bridegroom  is  allowed  to  do,  and  encouraged,  if  he 
needs  it;  a  flood  of  blood  came  out  upon  the  yellow  wood 
of  the  altar  steps;  and  at  my  feet  lay  Lorna,  trying  to  tell 
me  some  last  message  out  of  her  faithful  eyes.  I  lifted  her 
up,  and  petted  her,  and  coaxed  her,  but  it  was  no  good;  the 
only  sign  of  life  remaining  wasa  spirit  of  bright  red  blood. 

Some  men  know  what  things  befall  them  in  the  supreme 


DRIVEN  BEYOND  END  UBANCE.  673 

time  of  their  life — far  above  the  time  of  death — but  to  me 
comes  back  as  a  hazy  dream,  without  any  knowledge  in  it, 
what  I  did,  or  felt,  or  thought,  with  my  wife's  arms  flag- 
ging, flagging,  around  my  neck,  as  I  raised  her  up,  and 
softly  put  them  there.  She  signed  a  long  sigh  on  my 
breast,  for  her  last  farewell  to  life,  and  then  she  grew  so 
cold,  and  cold,  that  I  asked  the  time  of  year. 

It  was  now  Whit-Tuesday,  and  the  lilacs  all  in  blossom; 
and  why  I  thought  of  the  time  of  year,  with  the  young 
death  in  my  arms,  God  or  His  angels  may  decide,  having 
so  strangely  given  us.  Enough  that  so  I  did,  and  looked; 
and  our  white  lilacs  were  beautiful.  Then  I  laid  my  wife 
in  my  mother's  arms,  and  begging  that  no  one  would 
make  any  noise,  went  forth  for  my  revenge. 

Of  course  I  knew  who  had  done  it.  There  was  but  one 
man  in  the  world,  or,  at  any  rate,  in  our  part  of  it,  who  could 
have  done  such  a  thing — such  a  thing.  I  use  no  harsher 
word  about  it,  while  I  leaped  upon  our  best  horse,  with 
bridle  but  no  saddle,  and  set  the  head  of  Kickums  toward 
the  course  now  pointed  out  to  me.  Who  showed  me  the 
course,  I  cannot  tell.  I  only  knew  that  I  took  it.  And 
the  men  fell  back  before  me. 

Weapon  of  no  sort  had  I.  Unarmed,  and  wondering  at 
my  strange  attire  (with  a  bridal  vest  wrought  by  our  Annie, 
and  red  with  the  blood  of  the  bride),  I  went  forth  just  to 
find  out  this — whether  in  this  world  there  be  or  be  not  God 
of  justice. 

With  my  vicious  horse  at  a  furious  speed,  I  came  upon 
Black  Barrow  Down,  directed  by  some  shout  of  men,  which 
seemed  to  me  but  a  whisper.  And  there  about  a  fur- 
long before  me,  rode  a  man  on  a  great  black  horse,  and  I 
knew  that  the  man  was  Carver  Doone. 

^'  Your  life,  or  mine,''  I  said  to  myself;  "as  the  will  of 
God  may  be.  But  we  two  live  not  upon  this  earth  one  more 
hour  together." 

f  knew  the  strength  of  this  great  man;  and  I  knew  that 
he  was  armed  with  a  gun — if  he  had  time  to  load  again, 
after  shooting  my  Lorna — or  at  any  rate  with  pistols,  and 
a  horseman's  sword  as  well.  Nevertheless,  I  had  no  more 
doubt  of  killing  the  man  before  me  than  a  cook  has  of 
spitting  a  headless  fowl. 

Sometimes  seeing  no  ground  beneath  me,  and  sometimes 


e-y^:  LOnNA  DOONB. 

heeding  every  leaf,  and  the  crossing  of  the  grass-blades,  1 
followed  over  the  long  moor,  reckless  whether  seen  or  not. 
But  only  once  the  other  man  turned  round  and  looked  back 
again,  and  then  I  was  beside  a  rock,  with  a  reedy  swamp 
behind  me. 

Although  he  was  so  far  before  me,  and  riding  as  hard  as 
ride  he  might,  I  saw  that  he  had  something  on  the  horse  in 
front  of  him;  something  which  needed  care,  and  stopped 
him  from  looking  backward.  In  the  whirling  of  my  wits,  I 
fancied  first  that  this  was  Lorna;  until  the  scene  I  had 
been  through  fell  across  hot  brain  and  heart,  like  the  drop 
at  the  close  of  a  tragedy.  Rushing  there  through  crag  and 
quag  at  utmost  speed  of  a  maddened  horse,  1  saw,  as  of 
another's  fate,  calmly  (as  on  canvas  laid),  the  brutal  deed 
the  piteous  anguish,  and  the  cold  despair. 

The  man  turned  up  the  gully  leading  from  the  moor  to 
Cloven  Rocks,  through  which  John  Fry  had  tracked  Uncle 
Ben,  as  of  old  related.  But  as  Carver  entered  it,  he 
turned  round,  and  beheld  me  not  a  hundred  yards  behind; 
and  I  saw  that  he  was  bearing  his  child,  little  Ensie,  before 
him.  Ensie  also  descried  me,  and  stretched  his  hands  and 
cried  to  me;  for  the  face  of  his  father  frightened  him. 

Carver  Doone,  with  a  vile  oath,  thrust  spurs  into  his 
flagging  horse,  and  laid  one  hand  on  a  pistol-stock,  whence 
I  knew  that  his  slung  carbine  had  received  no  bullet  since 
the  one  that  had  pierced  Lorna.  And  a  cry  of  triumph 
rose  from  the  black  depths  of  my  heart.  What  cared  I  for 
pistols?  I  had  no  spurs,  neither  was  my  horse  one  to  need 
the  rowel;  I  rather  held  him  in  than  urged  him,  for  he 
was  fresh  as  ever;  and  I  knew  that  the  black  steed  in  front, 
if  he  breasted  the  steep  ascent,  where  the  track  divided, 
must  be  in  our  reach  at  once. 

His  rider  knew  this,  and,  having  no  room  in  the  rocky 
channel  to  turn  and  fire,  drew  rein  at  the  crossways 
sharply,  and  plunged  into  the  black  ravine  leading  to  the 
Wizard's  Slough.  "  Is  it  so,"  I  said  to  myself,  with  brain 
and  head  cold  as  iron:  '' though  the  foul  fiend  come  from 
the  slough  to  save  thee,  thou  shalt  carve  it,  Carver." 

I  followed  my  enemy  carefully,  steadily,  even  leisurely; 
for  I  had  him  as  in  a  pitfall,  whence  no  escape  might  be. 
He  thought  that  I  feared  to  approach  him,  for  he  knew 
not  where  he  was:  and  his  low  disdainful  laugh  came  back. 
*'  Laugh  he  who  wins,"  thought  I. 


DRIVEN  BEYOND  ENDURANCE.  675 

A  gnarled  and  half-starved  oak,  as  stubborn  as  my  own 
resolve,  and  smitten  by  some  storm  of  old,  hung  from  the 
crag  above  me.  Rising  from  my  horse's  back,  although  I 
had  no  stirrups,  I  caught  a  limb,  and  tore  it  (like  a  mere 
wheat-awn)  from  the  socket.  Men  show  the  rent  even 
now  with  wonder;  none  with  more  wonder  than  myself. 

Carver  Doone  turned  the  corner  suddenly  on  the  black 
and  bottomless  bog:  with  a  start  of  feai  he  reigned  back 
his  horse,  and  I  thought  he  would  have  turned  upon  me. 
But  instead  of  that,  he  again  rode  on,  hoping  to  find  a 
way  round  the  side. 

Now  there  is  a  way  between  cliff  and  slough  for  those 
who  know  the  ground  thoroughly,  or  have  time  enough  to 
search  it;  but  for  him  there  was  no  road,  and  he  lost  some 
time  in  seeking  it.  Upon  this  he  made  up  his  mind;  and 
wheeling,  fired,  and  then  rode  at  me. 

His  bullet  struck  me  somewhere,  but  I  took  no  heed  of 
that.  Fearing  only  his  escape,  I  laid  my  horse  across  the 
way,  and  with  the  limb  of  the  oak  struck  full  on  the  fore- 
head his  charging  steed.  Ere  the  slash  of  the  sword  came 
nigh  me,  man  and  horse  rolled  over,  and  well-nigh  bore 
my  own  horse  down  with  the  power  of  their  onset. 

Carver  Doone  was  somewhat  stunned,  and  could  not 
arise  for  a  moment.  Meanwhile  I  leaped  on  the  ground 
and  awaited,  smoothing  my  hair  back,  and  baring  my 
arms,  as  though  in  the  ring  for  wrestling.  Then  the  little 
boy  ran  to  me,  clasped  my  leg,  and  looked  up  at  me;  and 
the  terror  in  his  eyes  made  me  almost  fear  myself. 

**  Ensie,  dear,"  I  said  quite  gently,  grieving  that  he 
should  see  his  wicked  father  killed,  '^run  up  yonder  round 
the  corner,  and  try  to  find  a  pretty  bunch  of  bluebells  for 
the  lady.''  The  child  obeyed  me,  hanging  back,  and  look- 
ing back,  and  then  laughing,  while  I  prepared  for  busi- 
ness. There  and  then  I  might  have  killed  mine  enemy 
with  a  single  blow  while  he  lay  unconscious,  but  it  would 
have  been  foul  play. 

With  a  sullen  and  black  scowl,  the  Carver  gathered  his 
mighty  limbs  and  arose,  and  looked  round  for  his  weapons; 
but  I  had  put  them  well  away.  Then  he  came  to  me  and 
gazed,  being  wont  to  frighten  thus  young  men. 

**  I  would  not  harm  you,  lad,"  he  said,  with  a  lofty 
style  of  sneering.      "I  have  punished  you  enough,  for 


676  LORNA  DOONE. 

most  of  your  impertinence.  For  the  rest  I  forgive  you, 
because  you  have  been  good  and  gracious  to  my  little  son. 
Go  and  be  contented." 

For  answer  I  smote  him  on  the  cheek,  lightly,  and  not 
to  hurt  him,  but  to  make  his  blood  leap  up.  I  would  not 
sully  my  tongue  by  speaking  to  a  man  like  this. 

There  was  a  level  space  of  sward  between  us  and  the 
slough.  With  the  courtesy  derived  from  London,  and  the 
processions  I  had  seen,  to  this  place  I  led  him.  And  that 
he  might  breathe  himself,  and  have  every  fibre  cool,  and 
every  muscle  ready,  my  hold  upon  his  coat  I  loosed,  and 
left  him  to  begin  with  me  whenever  he  thought  proper. 

I  think  he  felt  that  his  time  was  come.  I  think  that  he 
knew  from  my  knitted  muscles,  and  the  firm  arch  of  my 
breast,  and  the  way  in  which  I  stood,  but  most  of  all  from 
my  stern  blue  eyes,  that  he  had  found  his  master.  At  any 
rate  a  paleness  came,  an  ashy  paleness  on  his  cheeks,  and 
the  vast  calves  of  his  legs  bowed  in  as  if  he  was  out  of 
training. 

Seeing  this,  villain  as  he  was,  I  offered  him  first  chance. 
I  stretched  forth  my  left  hand,  as  I  do  to  a  weaker  antag- 
onist, and  I  let  him  have  the  hug  of  me.  But  in  this  I 
was  too  generous;  having  forgotten  my  pistol- wound,  and 
the  cracking  of  one  of  my  short  lower  ribs.  Carver  Doone 
caught  me  round  the  waist  with  such  a  grip  as  never  yet 
had  been  laid  upon  me. 

I  heard  my  rib  go;  I  grasped  his  arm,  and  tore  the 
muscle  out  of  it*  (as  the  string  comes  out  of  an  orange); 
then  I  took  him  by  the  throat,  which  is  not  allowed  in 
wrestling,  but  he  had  snatched  at  mine;  and  now  was  no 
time  of  dalliance.  In  vain  he  tugged,  and  strained,  and 
writhed,  dashed  his  bleeding  fist  into  my  face,  and  flung 
himself  on  me  with  gnashing  jaws.  Beneath  the  iron  of 
my  strength — for  God  that  day  was  with  me — I  had  him 
helpless  in  two  minutes,  and  his  fiery  eyes  lolled  out. 

"  I  will  not  harm  thee  any  more,"  I  cried,  so  far  as  I 
could  for  panting,  the  work  being  very  furious.  ''  Carver 
Doone,  thou  art  beaten;  own  it,  and  thank  God  for  it;  and 
go  thy  way,  and  repent  thyself." 

*  A   far  more  terrible  clutch   tlian   tliis  is  handed  down,   to 
weaker  ages,  of  the  great  John  Ridd. — Ed. 


DRIVEN  BEYOND  ENDURANCE,  e.ri 

It  was  all  too  late.  Even  if  he  had  yielded  in  his  raven- 
ing frenzy — for  his  beard  was  like  a  mad  dog^s  jowl — even 
if  he  would  have  owned  that,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
he  had  found  his  master;  it  was  all  too  late. 

The  black  bog  had  him  by  the  feet;  the  sucking  of  the- 
ground  drew  on  him,  like  the  thirsty  lips  of  death.  In 
our  fury,  we  had  heeded  neither  wet  nor  dry;  nor  thought 
of  earth  beneath  us.  I  myself  might  scarcely  leap,  with 
the  last  spring  of  o'erlabored  legs,  from  the  ingulfing 
grave  of  slime.  He  fell  back,  with  his  swarthy  breast 
(from  which  my  gripe  had  rent  all  clothing),  like  a  hum- 
mock of  bog-oak,  standing  out  the  quagmire;  and  then  he 
tossed  his  arms  to  heaven,  and  they  were  black  to  the 
elbow,  and  the  glare  of  his  eyes  was  ghastly.  I  could  only 
gaze  and  pant;  for  my  strength  was  no  more  than  an  in- 
fant's, from  the  fury  and  the  horror.  Scarcely  could  I 
turn  away,  while,  joint  by  joint,  he  sunk  from  sight. 


e'iS  LORNA  DOONM, 


CHAPTER  LXXV. 

LIFE  AND   LORNA  COME  AGAIN. 

When  the  little  boy  came  back  with  the  bluebells,  which 
he  had  managed  to  find — as  children  always  do  find  flowers, 
when  older  eyes  see  none — the  only  sign  of  his  father  left 
was  a  dark  brown  bubble  upon  a  new-formed  patch  of 
blackness.  But  to  the  center  of  its  pulpy  gorge  the  greedy 
slough  was  heaving,  and  sullenly  grinding  its  weltering 
jaws  among  the  flags  and  the  sedges. 

With  pain  and  ache,  both  of  mind  and  body,  and  shame 
at  my  own  fury,  I  heavily  mounted  my  horse  again,  and 
looked  down  at  the  innocent  Ensie.  Would  this  playful, 
loving  child  grow  up  like  his  cruel  father,  and  end  a  godless 
life  of  hatred  with  a  death  of  violence?  He  lifted  his  noble 
forehead  toward  me,  as  if  to  answer,  ^'  Nay,  I  will  not;" 
but  the  words  he  spoke  were  these: 

"Don" — for  he  never  could  say  ''John" — "oh  Don,  I 
am  so  glad  that  nasty  naughty  man  is  gone  away.  Take 
me  home,  Don.     Take  me  home." 

It  has  been  said  of  the  wicked,  "  Not  even  their  own 
children  love  them."  And  I  could  easily  believe  that 
Carver  Doone's  cold-hearted  ways  had  scared  from  him 
even  his  favorite  child.  No  man  would  I  call  truly  wicked 
unless  his  heart  be  cold. 

It  hurt  me  more  than  I  can  tell,  even  through  all  other 

frief,  to  take  into  my  arms  the  child  of  the  man  just  slain 
y  me.  The  feeling  was  a  foolish  one,  and  a  wrong  one, 
as  the  thing  had  been — for  I  would  fain  have  saved  that 
man  after  he  was  conquered — nevertheless,  my  arms  went 
coldly  round  that  little  fellow;  neither  would  they  have 
gone  at  all,  if  there  had  been  any  help  for  it.  But  I  could 
not  leave  him  there  till  some  one  else  might  fetch  him,  on 
account  of  the  cruel  slough,  and  the  ravens  which  had  come 


LIFE  AND  LORNA  GOME  AGAIN.  679 

hovering  over  the  dead  horse;  neither  could  I,  with  my 
wound,  tie  him  on  my  horse  and  walk. 

For  now  I  had  spent  a  great  deal  of  blood,  and  was 
rather  faint  and  weary.  And  it  was  lucky  for  me  that 
Kickums  had  lost  spirit  like  his  master,  and  went  home  as 
mildly  as  a  lamb.  For  when  we  came  toward  the  farm,  I 
seemed  to  be  riding  in  a  dream  almost;  and  the  voices  both 
of  men  and  women  (who  had  hurried  forth  upon  my  track), 
as  they  met  me,  seemed  to  wander  from  a  distant  muiOaing 
cloud.  Only  the  thought  of  Lorna's  death,  like  a  heavy 
knell,  was  tolling  in  the  belfry  of  my  brain. 

Wlien  we  came  to  the  stable  door,  I  rather  fell  from  my 
horse  than  got  otf;  and  John  Fry,  with  a  look  of  wonder, 
took  Kickums'  head,  and  led  him  in.  Into  the  old  farm- 
house I  tottered,  like  a  weanling  child,  with  mother,  in 
her  common  clothes,  helping  me  along,  yet  fearing,  except 
by  stealth,  to  look  at  me. 

*^I  have  killed  him,"  was  all  I  said,  "even  as  he  killed 
Lorna.  Now  let  me  see  my  wife,  mother.  She  belongs 
to  me  none  the  less,  though  dead." 

"  You  cannot  see  her  now,  dear  John,"  said  Ruth  Hucka- 
back, coming  forward;  since  no  one  else  had  the  courage. 
**  Annie  is  with  her  now,  John." 

"  What  has  that  to  do  with  it?  Let  me  see  my  dead  one, 
and  pray  to  die." 

All  the  women  fell  away  and  whispered,  and  looked  at 
me  with  side  glances,  and  some  sobbing,  for  my  face  was 
hard  as  flint.  Ruth  alone  stood  by  me,  and  dropped  her 
eyes,  and  trembled.  Then  one  little  hand  of  hers  stole 
into  my  great  shaking  palm,  and  the  other  was  laid  on  my 
tattered  coat:  yet  with  her  clothes  she  shunned  my  blood, 
while  she  whispered  gently: 

**  John,  she  is  not  your  dead  one.  She  may  even  be 
your  living  one  yet — your  wife,  your  home,  and  your 
nappiness.     But  you  must  not  see  her  now." 

**  Is  there  any  chance  for  her?  For  me,  I  mean;  for 
me,  I  mean?" 

*' God  in  heaven  knows,  dear  John.  But  the  sight  of 
you,  and  in  this  sad  plight,  would  be  certain  death  to  her. 
Now  come  first,  and  be  healed  yourself." 

I  obeyed  her  like  a  child,  whispering  only  as  I  went,  for 
none    but  myself  knew  her   goodness — **  Almighty   God 


680  LORNA  DOONE, 

will  bless  you,  darling,  for  the  good  you  are  doing 
now/' 

Tenfold,  ay,  and  a  thousand-fold,  I  prayed  and  I  believed 
it,  when  I  came  to  know  the  truth.  If  it  had  not  been  for 
this  little  maid,  Lorna  must  have  died  at  once,  as  in  my 
arms  she  lay  for  dead,  from  the  dastard  and  murderous 
cruelty.  But  the  moment  I  left  her  Ruth  came  forward, 
and  took  the  command  of  every  one,  in  right  of  her 
firmness  and  readiness. 

She  made  them  bear  her  home  at  once  upon  the  door  of 
the  pulpit,  with  the  cushion  under  the  drooping  head. 
With  her  own  little  hands  she  cut  off,  as  tenderly  as  a  pear 
is  peeled,  the  bridal  dress  so  steeped  and  stained,  and  then 
with  her  dainty,  transparent  fingers  (no  larger  than  a 
pencil)  she  probed  the  vile  wound  in  the  side,  and  fetched 
the  reeking  bullet  forth,  and  then  with  the  coldest  water 
staunched  the  flowing  of  the  life-blood.  All  this  while  my 
darling  lay  insensible,  and  white  as  death;  and  all  the 
women  around  declared  that  she  was  dead,  and  needed 
nothing  but  her  maiden  shroud. 

But  Ruth  still  sponged  the  poor  side  and  forehead,  and 
watched  the  long  eyelashes  flat  upon  the  marble  cheek;  and 
laid  her  pure  face  on  the  faint  heart,  and  bade  them  fetch 
her  Spanish  wine.  Then  she  parted  the  pearly  teeth 
(feebly  clenched  on  the  hovering  breath),  and  poured  in 
wine  from  a  christening- spoon,  and  raised  the  graceful 
neck  and  breast,  and  stroked  the  delicate  throat,  and 
waited  and  then  poured  in  a  little  more. 

Annie  all  the  while  looked  on  with  horror  and  amaze- 
ment, counting  herself  no  second-rate  nurse,  and  this  as 
against  all  theory.  But  the  quiet  lifting  of  Ruth's  hand, 
and  one  glance  from  her  dark  bright  eyes,  told  Annie  just 
to  stand  away,  and  not  intercept  the  air  so.  And  at  the 
very  moment  when  all  the  rest  had  settled  that  Ruth  was 
a  simple  idiot,  but  could  not  harm  the  dead  much,  a  little 
flutter  in  the  throat,  followed  by  a  short  low  sigh,  made 
them  pause,  and  look,  and  hope. 

For  hours,  however,  and  days,  she  lay  at  the  very  verge 
of  death,  kept  alive  by  nothing  but  the  care,  the  skill,  the 
tenderness,  and  perpetual  watchfulness  of  Ruth.  Luckily 
Annie  was  not  there  very  often,  so  as  to  meddle;  for  kind 
and  clever  nurse  as  she  was,  she  must  have  done  more  harm 


LIFE  AND  LORNA  COME  AGAIN,  681 

than  good.  But  my  broken  rib,  which  was  set  by  a  doctor 
who  chanced  to  be  at  the  wedding,  was  allotted  to  Annie's 
care;  and  great  inflammation  ensuing,  it  was  quite  enough 
to  content  her.  This  doctor  had  pronounced  poor  Lorna 
dead;  wherefore  Ruth  refused  most  firmly  to  have  aught  to 
do  with  him.  She  took  the  whole  case  on  herself,  and  with 
God's  help  sha  bore  it  through. 

Now  whether  it  were  the  light  and  brightness  of  my 
Lorna's  nature,  or  the  freedom  from  anxiety — for  she 
knew  not  of  my  hurt — or,  as  some  people  said,  her  birth- 
right among  wounds  and  violence,  or  her  manner  of  not 
drinking  beer — I  leave  that  doctor  to  determine  who  pro- 
nounced her  dead.  But  anyhow,  one  thing  is  certain;  sure 
as  the  stars  of  hope  above  us,  Lorna  recovered  long  ere 
I  did. 

For  the  grief  was  on  me  still  of  having  lost  my  love  and 
lover  at  the  moment  she  was  mine.  With  the  power  of 
fate  upon  me,  and  the  black  caldron  of  the  wizard's  death 
boiling  in  my  heated  brain,  I  had  no  faith  in  the  tales  they 
told.  I  believed  that  Lorna  was  in  the  church-yard  while 
these  rogues  were  lying  to  me.  For  with  strength  of  blood 
like  mine,  and  power  of  heart  behind  it,  a  broken  bone 
must  burn  itself. 

Mine  went  hai'd  with  fires  of  pain,  being  of  such  size 
and  thickness;  and  I  was  ashamed  of  him  for  breaking  by 
reason  of  a  pistol-ball,  and  the  mere  hug  of  a  man.  And 
it  fetched  me  down  in  conceit  of  strength,  so  that  I  was 
careful  afterward. 

All  this  was  a  lesson  to  me.  All  this  made  me  very 
humble;  illness  being  a  thing  as  yet  altogether  unknown 
to  me.  Not  that  I  cried  small,  or  skulked,  or  feared  the 
death  which  some  foretold,  shaking  their  heads  about 
mortification,  and  a  green  appearance.  Only  that  I 
seemed  quite  fit  to  go  to  heaven  and  Lorna.  For  in  my 
sick,  distracted  mind  (stirred  with  many  tossings),  like 
the  bead  in  a  spread  of  frog  spawn  carried  by  the  current, 
hung  the  black  and  central  essence  of  my  future  life.  A 
life  without  Lorna;  a  tadpole  life.  All  stupid  head,  and  no 
body. 

Many  men  may  like  such  life;  anchorites,  fakirs,  high- 
priests,  and  so  on;  but  to  my  mind  it  is  not  the  native 
thing  God  meant  for  us.    My  dearest  mother  was  a  show, 


682  LORNA  DOONE, 

with  crying  and  with  fretting.  The  Doones,  as  she 
thought,  were  born  to  destroy  us.  Scarce  had  she  come 
to  some  liveliness  (though  sprinkled  with  tears  every  now 
and  then)  after  her  great  bereavement,  and  ten  years  time 
to  dwell  on  it — when  lo,  here  was  her  husband's  son,  the 
pet  child  of  her  own  good  John,  murdered  like  his  father! 
Well,  the  ways  of  God  were  wonderful! 

So  they  were,  and  so  they  are;  and  so  they  ever  will  be. 
Let  us  debate  them  as  we  will,  our  ways  are  His,  and 
much  the  same;  only  second-hand  from  Him.  And  I  ex- 
pected something  from  Him,  even  in  my  worst  of  times, 
knowing  that  I  had  done  my  best. 

This  is  not  edifying  talk — as  our  Nonconformist  parson 
says,  when  he  can  get  no  more  to  drink — therefore  let  me 
only  tell  what  became  of  Lorna.  One  day  I  was  sitting  in 
mybedroom,  for  I  could  not  get  down-stairs,  and  there 
was  no  one  strong  enough  to  carry  me,  even  if  I  would 
have  allowed  it. 

Though  it  cost  me  sore  trouble  and  weariness,  I  had  put 
on  all  my  Sunday  clothes,  out  of  respect  for  the  doctor, 
who  was  coming  to  bleed  me  again  (as  he  always  did  twice 
a  week);  and  it  struck  me  that  he  had  seemed  hurt  in  his 
mind  because  I  wore  my  worst  clothes  to  be  bled  in — for 
lie  in  bed  I  would  not  after  six  o'clock;  and  even  that  was 
great  laziness. 

I  looked  at  my  right  hand,  whose  grasp  had  been  like 
that  of  a  blacksmith's  vise;  and  it  seemed  to  myself  impos- 
sible that  this  could  be  John  Kidd's.  The  great  frame  of 
the  hand  was  there,  as  well  as  the  muscles,  standing  forth 
like  the  guttering  of  a  candle,  and  the  broad  blue  veins 
going  up  the  back,  and  crossing  every  finger.  But  as  for 
color,  even  Lorna's  could  scarcely  have  been  whiter;  and 
as  for  strength,  little  Ensie  Doone  might  have  come  and 
held  it  fast.  I  laughed  as  I  tried  in  vain  to  lift  the  basin 
set  for  bleeding  me. 

Then  I  thought  of  all  the  lovely  things  going  on  out-of- 
doors  just  now,  concerning  which  the  drowsy  song  of  the 
bees  came  to  me.  These  must  be  among  the  thyme,  by 
the  sound  of  their  great  content.  Therefore  the  roses  must 
be  in  blossom,  and  the  woodbine,  and  clove-gillyflower; 
the  cherries  on  the  wall  must  be  turning  red,  the  yellow 
Sally  must  be  on  the  brook,  wheat  must  be  callow  with 


LIFE  AND  LORNA  COMB  AQAm.  683 

quavering  bloom,  and  the  early  meadows  swathed  with 
hay. 

Yet  here  was  I,  a  helpless  creature,  quite  unfit  to  stir 
among  them,  gifted  with  no  sight,  no  scent  of  all  the 
changes  that  move  our  love,  and  lead  our  hearts,  from 
month  to  month,  along  the  quiet  path  of  life.  And,  what 
■\vas  worse,  I  had  no  hope  of  caring  ever  for  them  more. 

Presently  a  little  knock  sounded  through  my  gloomy 
room;  and  supposing  it  to  be  the  doctor,  I  tried  to  rise  and 
make  my  bow;  but,  to  my  surprise,  it  was  little  Ruth,  who 
had  never  once  come  to  visit  me  since  I  was  placed  under 
the  doctor's  hands.  Ruth  was  dressed  so  gayly,  with 
rosettes,  and  flowers,  and  what  not,  that  I  was  sorry  for  her 
bad  manners,  and  thought  she  was  come  to  conquer  me, 
now  that  Lorna  was  done  with. 

Ruth  ran  toward  me  with  sparkling  eyes,  being  rather 
short  of  sight.  Then  suddenly  she  stopped,  and  I  saw 
entire  amazement  in  her  face. 

**Can  you  receive  visitors.  Cousin  Ridd?  Why,  they 
never  told  me  of  this!"  she  cried.  "  I  knew  that  you  were 
weak,  dear  John,  but  not  that  you  were  dying.  Whatever 
is  that  basin  for?" 

*'I  have  no  intention  of  dying,  Ruth;  and  I  like  not  to 
talk  about  it.  But  that  basin,  if  you  must  know,  is  for  the 
doctor's  purpose." 

"What!  do  you  mean  bleeding  you?  You  poor,  weak 
cousin!    Is  it  possible  that  he  does  that  still?" 

''Twice  a  week  for  the  last  six  weeks,  dear.  Nothing 
else  has  kept  me  alive." 

"  Nothing  else  has  killed  you,  nearly.  There!"  and  she 
set  her  little  boot  across  the  basin  and  crushed  it.  **  Not 
another  drop  shall  they  have  from  you.  Is  Annie  such  a 
fool  as  that?  And  Lizzie,  like  a  zany,  at  her  books!  And 
killing  their  brother  between  them!" 

I  was  surprised  to  see  Ruth  excited,  her  character  being 
so  calm  and  quiet.  And  I  tried  to  soothe  her  with  my 
feeble  hand,  as  now  she  knelt  before  me. 

"  Dear  cousin,  the  doctor  must  know  best.  Annie  says 
so  every  day;  else  what  has  he  been  brought  up  for?" 

"Brought  up  for  slaying  and  murdering.  Twenty 
doctors  killed  King  Charles,  in  spite  of  all  the  women. 
Will  you  leave  it  to  me,  John?    I  have  a  little  will  of  my 


684  Loiij^A  JjOONiJ. 

own,  and  I  am  not  afraid  of  doctors.  Will  you  leave  it  to 
me,  dear  John?  I  have  saved  your  Lorna's  life,  and  now 
I  will  save  yours,  which  is  a  far,  far  easier  business/' 

'^  You  have  saved  my  Lorna's  life!  What  do  you  mean 
by  talking  so?" 

"  Only  what  I  say.  Cousin  John,  though  perhaps  1  over- 
prize my  work.     But  at  any  rate  she  says  so." 

*'  I  do  not  understand,"  I  said,  falling  back  with  bewil- 
derment; "all  women  are  such  liars." 

**Have  you  ever  known  me  tell  a  lie?"  cried  Ruth,  in 
great  indignation,  more  feigned,  I  doubt,  than  real. 
**Your  mother  may  tell  a  story  now  and  then,  when 
she  feels  it  right,  and  so  may  both  your  sisters.  But  so 
you  can  not  do,  John  Kidd;  and  no  more  than  you  can  I 
do  it." 

If  ever  there  was  virtuous  truth  in  the  eyes  of  any 
woman,  it  was  now  in  Ruth  Huckaback's;  and  my  brain 
began  very  slowly  to  move,  the  heart  being  almost  torpid, 
from  perpetual  loss  of  blood. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  was  all  I  could  say  for  a  long 
time. 

''Will  you  understand  if  I  show  you  Lorna?  I  have 
feared  to  do  it,  for  the  sake  of  you  both.  But  now  Lorna 
is  well  enough,  if  you  think  that  you  are.  Cousin  John. 
Surely  you  will  understand,  when  you  see  your  wife." 

Following  her  to  the  very  utmost  of  my  mind  and  heart, 
I  felt  that  all  she  said  was  truth,  and  yet  I  could  not  make 
it  out.  And  in  her  last  few  words  there  was  such  a  power 
of  sadness  rising  through  the  cover  of  gayety,  that  I  said 
to  myself,  half  in  a  dream,  '^Ruth  is  very  beautiful." 

Before  I  had  time  to  listen  much  for  the  approach  of 
footsteps,  Ruth  came  back,  and  behind  her  Lorna;  coy  as 
if  of  her  bridegroom,  and  hanging  back  with  her  beauty. 
Ruth  banged  the  door  and  ran  away,  and  Lorna  stood 
before  me. 

But  she  did  not  stand  for  an  instant  when  she  saw  what 
I  was  like.  At  the  risk  of  all  thick  bandages,  and  upset- 
ting a  dozen  medicine  bottles,  and  scattering  leeches  right 
and  left,  she  managed  to  get  into  my  arms  although  they 
could  not  hold  her.  She  laid  her  panting  warm  young 
breast  on  the  place  where  they  meant  to  bleed  me,  and  she 
set  my  pale  face  up;  and  she  would  not  look  at  me,  having 
greater  faith  in  kissing. 


LIFE  AND  LORN  A  COME  AGAIN.  685 

I  felt  my  life  come  back,  and  warm;  I  felt  my  trust  in 
■women  flow;  I  felt  the  joy  of  living  now,  and  the  power  of 
doing  it.  It  is  not  a  moment  to  describe;  who  feels  can 
never  tell  of  it.  But  the  rush  of  Lorna's  tears,  and  the 
challenge  of  my  bride^s  lips,  and  the  throbbing  of  my 
wife's  heart  (now  at  last  at  home  on  mine),  made  me  feel 
that  the  world  was  good,  and  not  a  thing  to  be  weary  of. 

Little  more  have  I  to  tell.  The  doctor  was  turned  out 
at  once;  and  slowly  came  back  my  former  strength,  with  a 
darling  wife  and  good  victuals.  As  for  Lorna,  she  never 
tired  of  sitting  and  watching  me  eat  and  eat.  And  such  is 
her  heart  that  she  never  tires  of  being  with  me  here  and 
there  among  the  beautiful  places,  and  talking  with  her  arm 
around  me — so  far,  at  least,  as  it  can  go,  though  half  of 
mine  may  go  round  her — of  the  many  fears  and  troubles, 
dangers  and  discouragements,  and,  worst  of  all,  the  bitter 
partings,  which  we  used  to  have  somehow. 

There  is  no  need  for  my  farming  harder  than  becomes  a 
man  of  weight.  Lorna  has  great  stores  of  money,  though 
we  never  draw  it  out  except  for  some  poor  neighbor,  unless 
I  find  her  a  sumptuous  dress  out  of  her  own  perquisites. 
And  this  she  always  looks  upon  as  a  wondrous  gift  from  me, 
and  kisses  me  much  when  she  puts  it  on,  and  walks  like 
the  noble  woman  she  is.  And  yet  I  may  never  behold  it 
again;  for  she  gets  back  to  her  simple  clothes,  and  I  love 
her  the  better  in  them.  I  believe  that  she  gives  half  the 
grandeur  away,  and  keeps  the  other  half  for  the  children. 

As  for  poor  Tom  Faggus,  every  one  knows  his  bitter  ad- 
ventures, when  his  pardon  was  recalled,  because  of  his 
journey  to  Sedgemoor.  Not  a  child  in  the  country,  J 
doubt,  but  knows  far  more  than  I  do  of  Tom's  most  desj 
perate  doings.  The  law  had  ruined  him  once,  he  said,  and 
then  he  had  been  too  much  for  the  law;  and  now  that  a 
quiet  life  was  his  object,  here  the  base  thing  came  after 
him.  And  such  was  his  dread  of  tliis  evil  spirit,  that 
being  caught  upon  Barnstaple  Bridge,  with  soldiers  at 
either  end  of  it  (yet  doubtful  about  approaching  him),  he 
set  his  strawberry  mare,  sweet  Winnie,  at  the  left-hand 
parapet,  with  a  whisper  into  ber  dove-colored  ear.  With- 
out a  moment's  doubt  she  leaped  it,  into  the  foaming  tide, 
and  swam,  and  landed  according  to  orders.  Also  his  flight 
from  a  public-house  (where  a  trap  was  set  for  him,  but 


686  LORNA  BOONE. 

Winnie  came  and  broke  down  the  door,  and  put  two  men 
under,  and  trod  on  them)  is  as  well  known  as  any  ballad. 
It  was  reported  for  a  while  that  poor  Tom  had  been  caught 
at  last,  by  means  of  his  fondness  for  liquor,  and  was 
hanged  before  Taunton  jail;  but  luckily  we  knew  better. 
With  a  good  wife,  and  a  wonderful  horse,  and  all  the  coun- 
try attached  to  him,  he  kept  the  law  at  a  wholesome  dis- 
tance, until  it  became  too  much  for  its  master,  and  a  new 
king  arose.  Upon  this,  Tom  sued  his  pardon  afresh;  and 
Jeremy  Stickles,  who  suited  the  times,  was  glad  to  help 
him  in  getting  it,  as  well  as  a  compensation.  Thereafter 
the  good  and  respectable  Tom  lived  a  godly  (though  not 
always  sober)  life,  and  brought  up  his  children  to  honesty, 
as  the  first  of  all  qualifications. 

My  dear  mother  was  as  happy  as  possibly  need  be  with 
us;  having  no  cause  for  jealousy  as  others  arose  around 
her.  And  everybody  was  well  pleased  when  Lizzie  came 
in  one  day,  and  tossed  her  book-shelf  over,  and  declared 
that  she  would  have  Captain  Bloxham,  and  nobody  should 
prevent  her;  for  that  he  alone,  of  all  the  men  she  had  ever 
met  with,  knew  good  writing  when  he  saw  it,  and  could 
spell  a  word  when  told.  As  he  had  now  succeeded  to  Cap- 
tain Stickles'  position  (Stickles  going  up  the  tree),  and 
had  the  power  of  collecting,  and  of  keeping  what  he  liked, 
there  was  notliing  to  be  said  against  it;  and  we  hoped  that 
he  would  pay  her  out. 

I  sent  little  Ensie  to  BlundelFs  school  at  my  own  cost 
and  charges,  having  changed  his  name,  for  fear  of  what 
any  one  might  do  to  him.  I  called  him  Ensie  Jones:  and 
I  think  he  will  be  a  credit  to  us.  For  the  bold,  adventurous 
nature  of  the  Doones  broke  out  on  him,  and  we  got  him  a 
commission;  and  after  many  scrapes  of  spirit,  he  did  great 
things  in  the  Low  Countries.  He  looked  upon  me  as  his 
father,  and  without  my  leave  will  not  lay  claim  to  the  her- 
itage and  title  of  the  Doones,  which  clearly  belong  to  him. 

Ruth  Huckaback  is  not  married  yet,  although,  upon 
Uncle  Reuben's  death,  she  came  into  all  his  property,  except, 
indeed,  £2,000,  which  Uncle  Ben,  in  his  driest  manner,  be- 
queathed ^'  to  Sir  John  Ridd,  the  worshipful  knight,  for 
greasing  of  the  testator's  boots."  And  he  left  almost  a  mint 
of  money,  not  from  the  mine,  but  from  the  shop,  and  the 
good  use  of  usury.     For  the  mine  had  brought  in  just  what 


LIFE  AND  LORNA  COME  AGAIN.  68? 

it  cost,  when  the  vein  of  gold  ended  suddenly;  leaving  all 
concerned  much  older,  and  some,  I  fear,  much  poorer,  but 
no  one  utterly  ruined,  as  in  the  case  with  most  of  them. 
Ruth  herself  was  his  true  mine,  as  upon  death-bed  he 
found.  I  know  a  man  even  worthy  of  her;  and  though 
she  is  not  very  young,  he  loves  her  as  I  love  Lorna.  It  is 
my  firm  conviction  that  in  the  end  he  will  win  her;  and  I 
do  not  mean  to  dance  again,  except  at  dear  Ruth's  wed- 
ding, if  the  floor  be  strong  enough. 

Of  Lorna,  of  my  life-long  darling,  of  my  more  and  more 
loved  wife,  I  will  not  talk;  for  it  is  not  seemly  that  a  man 
should  exalt  his  pride.  Year  by  year  her  beauty  grows, 
with  the  growth  of  goodness,  kindness,  and  true  happi- 
ness— above  all,  with  loving.  For  change,  she  makes  a 
ioke  of  this,  and  plays  with  it,  and  laughs  at  it;  and  then 
When  my  slow  nature  marvels,  back  she  comes  to  the 
earnest  thing.  And  if  I  wish  to  pay  her  out  for  some- 
thing very  dreadful — as  may  happen  once  or  twice,  when 
we  become  too  gladsome — I  bring  her  to  forgotten  sadness, 
and  to  me  for  cure  of  it,  by  the  two  words  "Lorna 
Doone.'' 


THE  SKB. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED  > 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below, 
or  on  the  date  to  which  renewed.  Renewals  only: 

Tel.  No.  642-3405 

Renewals  may  be  made  4  days  i>riod  to  date  due. 

r^enewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


subject  to  recall  afier  — 


REn'DLD    MAY  ^6  72-1  PM  5  g 
SEP35  1975  16 


^^o,<t^^W^^^Q^ 


BEC.CI8.0CT  31  "70 


[itU  1  'd^^«-     NOV  2  G  i335 


RECEIVED 


BY 


^•^^  *    1980 


CIRCUUT/ON  DEPT 

PEC  12 1905 -^^ 


LD21A-60m-8,*70 
(N8837sl0)476 — A-32 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


BENERAt  LIBRARY -U.C.  BERKELEY 


BD0013SS2b 


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